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BURNS. 



^^^V Mc^H:/--— 



POETICAL WORKS 



OF 



ROBEET BURNS 



O 



EDITED FROM THE 

BEST PRINTED AND MANUSCRIPT AUTHORITIES 

WITH CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE OF HIS LIFE AND WORKS 
4ND GLOSSARIAli INPSX 



NEW YORK: 

HURST AND COMPANY. 

PUBLISHERS, 



/ ? 9' - ? 



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CONTENTS. 



1:1 



Page 
Chronologic Ai, Table v 

POEMS. 

The xwu Dt?g8 17 

l?coU:h i3rink 22 

Tlie Author's Earnest Cry and Prayer.. . 25 

The Holy Fair 28 

Ueatli and Doctor llorubook 33 

The Brigs of Ayr 37 

The Oniiualion 42 

The Calf 43 

Addre.-s to the Deil 44 

The Death and Dying Words of Poor 

Mailie, ilie Autlior's only Pet Yowe.. 45 

Poor Mailie's Elegy. 46 

To James Smith 47 

A Dream 49 

Ttie Vision . 50 

Address to tbs ITnco Guid, or the Rigidly 

Righteous 54 

Tam Samson's Elegy 55 

Halloween 56 

The Jolly Beggars ... 60 

The Auld Farmer's New-Year Morning 

Salutation to his Auld Mare, Maggie.. 65 
To a Mouse, on turning her up in her nest 

with the plough 66 

A Winter Night 67 

Epistle to Davie, a Brother Poet 68 

The Lament, occasioned by ihe Unfortu- 
nate Issue of a Friend's Amour 70 

Despondency 71 

Winter 72 

The Cotter's Saturday Night 73 

Man was made to mourn 76 

A Prayer, in the Prospect of Death 77 

Stanzas on the same occasion 78 

Verses left by Burns in a Room where 

he slept '. . 78 

The First Psalm 79 

A Prayer, under the pressure of violent 

anguish 79 

The First Six Vers.s of the Nintieth 

Psalm 79 

To a Mountain Daisy, on turning one 

with the plough 80 

To Ruin 80 

To Miss Logan, with Beattie's Poems. . . 81 

Epistle to a Young Friend 81 

On a Scotch Bard, gone to the West 

Indies 82 

To a Haggis 83 

A Deiii' atiou to Gavin Hamilton, E-q.. . 83 
To a Louse, on seeing one on a Lady's 

Bonnet at Church ..... , && 



Address to Edinburgh 85 

Epistle to John Lapraik, an old Scottish 

Bard RQ 

To the Same nH 

To William Simpson ' ... s^a 

Epistle to John Rankine Qi 

Written in Friars-Carse Hermitage L3 

Ode, Sacred to tlie Memory of lilrs. 

Oswald nj 

Elegy on Ca4Jt. Matthew Henderson 94 

Lament of Mary Queen of Scots, ou ll.c 

Approacli of Spring Ofi 

Epistle to R. Graham, Fsq 97 

To IJobei t Graham, of Fintry, Esq 98 

Lament for James, Earl of (41encairn ... 10 1 
Lines sent to Sir John Whiteford, of 
Whiteford, Bart., with the foregoing 

Poem iJi 

Tam O'Shanter 101 

On tlie late Captain Grose'a Peregrina- 
tions through f^cotland 104 

On seeing a Woundt d Hare 1 i mp by me , . 105 
Address to the Shade of Thom!-.ou, on 

crowning his Bust at Ednam 10? 

To Miss Cruiksha' k ] (i 

On the Death of John M'Leod, Esq.. . 1 )ii 
The Humble Petition of Bruar Wat* r to 

the noble Duke of Athole 107 

The Kirk's Alarr« ws 

Address to the Toothache 102 

Written with a Pciicil over the Chimncv- 
piece, in the Parlour of the Inn at Ilcii- 

more,Taymouth 110 

On the Birth of a Posthumous Child, born 
in Peculiar Circimistances of Family 

Distress Ill 

Written with a Pencil, standing by the 

Fall of Fyers, near Loch-Ness Ill 

Second Epistle to Davie, a Brother Poet. Ill 
The Inventory of the Poet's Goods a. d 

Chattels 112 

The Wnistle 113 

Sketch, ins< ribed to the Right Hon. C. J. 

Fox 115 

To Dr. Blacklock 116 

Prologue spoken at the Theatre, Dum- 
fries 117 

El- gy on the late ]\Iis3 Burnet 117 

The following Poem was written to a 
gentleman who h"id sent liim a nrws- 
paper, and offered to continue it free 

of expense llg 

Lines on an interview with Lord Daer. . 119 
The Rights of Woman. ProlOL,ue spoken 

b Miss Fontenelle 119 

Address, spoken by Miss Fontenelle. . . . 120 



IV 



CONTENTS. 



Page 

Verses toa Yontig Lady., 121 

Poem on Pastoral Poetry , 121 

Verses to Chloris. with a copy of the last 

Editli n of his Poems . ... 122 

Poetical Address to Mr. William Tytler. 122 

Skelcli— I>^evv-Year Day 123 

Extempore, on Mr. William Smellie. ... 123 

Inscription for an Altar to Independence -124 

Monody on a Lady famed for her Caprice 124 
Sonnet on the Death of Kobert Riddel, 

Esq., of Glenriddel 125 

Impromptu, on Mrs. Riddel's Birthday.. 125 

To Mis's Jessy Lewars, Dumfries 126 

Verses \\ritt< n under violent grief 126 

Extempore to Mr. Syme, on refusing to 

dine with him 126 

To Mr. Syme , 126 

Sonnet, on hearing a Thrush sing 127 

Poem, addressed to Mr. Mitchell 127 

feient to a Gentleman whom he had 

offended 128 

Poem on Life 128 

To Kobert Graham, Esq., of Fintry 128 

Epitaph on a Friend 129 

Verses written at Selkirk 129 

Inscription on the Tombstone jf the Poet 

Fergusson 130 

A Gnice before Dinner 130 

A Verse, repeated on taking leave at a 

place in the Highlands 130 

Lil)erty 131 

Fragment of an Ode to the Memory of 

Prince Charles Edward Stuart 132 

Elegy on the Death of Robert Ruisseaux 132 
Answer to Verses addressed to the Poet 

by the Guidwife of Wauchope-House. 132 

To J . Lapraik 133 

TheTwaHerds 133 

To tiie Rev. John M'Math 135 

Holy Willie's Prayer 138 

Ei)itiiph on Holy Willie 137 

On scaring some Water Fowl in Loch- 

Turit . 137 

To Gavin Hamilton, Esq., Mauchline. ... 138 

Kp's^tle to Mr. M'Adam 13S 

To Captain Riddel, Glenriddel 139 

Verses intended to be written below a 

noble Earl's Picture 139 

To Tt rraughty , on his Birthday 139 

To a Lady, with a i)resent of a Pair of 

Drinking Glasses 140 

The Vowels 140 

Skttch 141 

Prologue for Mr. Sutherland's Benefit.. 141 

Elegy on the Year 1788 142 

Verses written under thePortraitof Fer- 
gusson the Poet 143 

Lament, written at a time when the Poet 

was about to leave Scotland 143 

Delia 143 

On the Death of Sir James Hunter Blair 144 

To Miss Ferrier 145 

Verses to an old Sweetheart, then mar- 
ried 145 

The Poet's Welcome to his Illegitimate 

Child 145 

Letter to John Goudie, Kilmarnock. ... 146 

Letter to James Tennant, Glenconner. . 146 

Epistle from Esopus to Maria * 147 

On a Suicide e.. ...... .......... 148 



foot 

A Farewell 149 

The Farewell 149 

Epistle to Robert Graham, Esq 149 

Stanzas on the Duke of Queensberry . . .. 153 
Verses on the Destruction of the Woods 

near Drumlanrig 153 

Epistle to Mcijor Logan 152 

Epitaph on tne Poet's Daughter 154 

Epitaph on Gabriel Richardson 154 

On Stirling 154 

Lines on being told that the foregoii.g 

Poem would affect his Prospects 154 

TheReply 154 

Epistle to Hugh Parker 155 

Address of Beelzebub to the President 

of the Highland Society 155 

To Mr. John Kennedy 156 

On the Death of Robert Dundas, Esq... 156 

To John M'Munlo, Esq 157 

On the Death of a Lap-dog, named Echo 157 

Lines written at Loudon Marse 158 

Orthodox, On hodox. A Second Version 

of the Kirk's Ahum 158 

The Selkirk Grace 159 

Elegy on the Death of P. g Nicholson. . . 160 
On seeing Mi;s Funtenelle in a favorite 

Character 166 

The Leaijuc and Covenant 16*' 

On Miss%Jessy Lewars , 160 

Epitaph on Miss Jessy Lewars... 160 

The Recovery of Jessy Lewars.'. 160 

The Toast I6r 

TheKirk of Lamington 161 

Written ona blank leaf of one of Miss 
Hannah More's Works, which she had 

given him 161 

Inscription on a Goblet 161 

The Book-worms 161 

OnRobert Riddel 161 

Willie Chalmers 162 

ToJohnTayior 162 

Lines written on a Bank-note 162 

The Loyal Natives' Verses 163 

Burns's Reply— Extempore IHS 

Remorse 163 

The Toad-Eater 103 

To 164 

"In vain would Prudence" 164 

"Though fickle Fortune " 164 

"I burn, I l)urn" 164 

Epigram on a noted Coxcomb 165 

Tam the Chapman 165 

To Dr. Maxwell, on A'. iss Jessy Craig's 

Recovery 165 

Fragment lf»5 

There's Naethin like the honest Nappy. . 105 
Prologue, spoken by Mr. Woods on his 

Benefit-night 165 

Nature's Law. A poem humbly inscribed 

toG. H., Esq 166 

The Catg like Kitchen 167 

Tragic Fragment 167 

Extempore. On passing a Lady's Car- 
riage 167 

Fragments 168 

Epitaph on William Nicol 169 

Answer to a Poetical Epistle sent the 

Author by a Tailor 169 

Extempore lines, in answer to a card 

from an intimate Friend of Burns 170 



CONTENTS. 



Lines written Extempore in a Lady's 

Pocket-bowk 170 

The Henpecked Ihibiband 170 

Epitaph on a Heiipeck'd Country Squire 171 

Epigram on said occasion 171 

Another 171 

Verses written on a Window of the Inn 

at Carron 171 

Lines on being a^ked why God had made 

Miss Davis to little and Mrs. so 

large .. 171 

Epigram. Written at In verary 172 

A Toast. Given at a meeting of the 

Dumfries-shire Volunteers 172 

Lines said to have bee n written by Burns, 
while on his Deathbed, to John Ran- 

kine, 172 

Verses addressed to J. Rankine 172 

On seeing the beautiful seat of Lord Gal- 
loway , 172 

On the Same 173 

On the Same 173 

To the Same, on the Author being threat- 
ened with liis Resentment 173 

Verses to J. Rankine 173 

Extemporaneous Effusion, on being ap- 
pointed to the Excise 173 

On heaiiiig that there was Falsehood in 

liie Rev. Dr. B 's very Looks 173 

Poverty 174 

On a Schoolmaster in Cleish Parish 174 

Lines written and presented to Mrs, 

Kemble 174 

Lines written on a Window at the King's 

Arms Tavern, Dumfries 174 

Lines writttn on the Window of the 

Globe Tavern, Dumfries 174 

Extempore in the Court of Session 175 

Lines written under the Picture of Miss 

Burns 175 

On Miss J. Scott, of Ayr 175 

Epigram on Captain Francis Grose 175 

Epigram on Elphinstone's Translation of 

Martial's Epigram .. 175 

Epitaph on a Country Laird 176 

Epitaph on a Noisy Polemic 176 

Epiaph on Wee Johnny 176 

Epitaph on a celebrated ruling Elder 176 

Epitaph for Robert Aiken, Esq.. 176 

Epitiiph for Ga\ in Hamilton, Esq 176 

A Bard"s Epitaph 177 

Epitaph on my Father 177 

Ei)itaph on John Dove 177 

Epitaph on John Bushby 177 

Epitaph on a Wiig in Mauchline 178 

Epitaph on a Person i icknamed "The 

Marquis" 178 

Epitiph on Walter S ... 178 

On Himsdf 178 

Grace before Meat 178 

On Commissary Goldi«-'s Brains 178 

Impromptu 179 

Addressed to a Lady whom ttie Author 

feared he had oflieiided 179 

Epigram 179 

Lines inscribed on a Platter 179 

To .' 179 

On Mr. M'Murdo 179 

To a Lady who was looking up the Text 

during Sermon 180 



Page 

Impromptu. , , 180 

To 180 

To a Painter 180 

Lines written on a Tumbler 180 

On Mr. W. Cruikshank, of the High 

School, Edinburgh 180 

SONGS. 

The Lasso' Ballochmyle 181 

Song of Death 181 

My ain kind Dearie O 182 

Anld Rob Morris 1C2 

Naebody 583 

My Wife's a winsome wee Thing Ib3 

Duncan Gray 183 

O Poortith 183 

Gaim Water 184 

Lord Gregory. 184 

Open the Door to Me, oh ! 184 

Meg o' the Mill 185 

JCfSie 185 

Wandering W'illie 185 

Logan Braes 186 

There was a Lass 186 

Phillis the Fair 187 

By Allan Stream 187 

Had I a Cave 188 

Whistle, and I'll come to you, my Lad.. 188 

Husband, Husband, cease your Strife. .. 188 

Deluded Swain 189 

Song 189 

Wilt thou be my Dearie ? 189 

Banks of Cree 189 

On the Seas and far away 190 

Hark 1 the Mavis 190 

She says she lo'es me best of a' 191 

How lang and dreary 191 

The Lover's Morning Salute to his Mis- 
tress 191 

Lassie wi' the Lint-white Locks 192 

TheAuldMan 192 

Farewell, thou Stream 192 

Contented wi' little 192 

My Nannie's awa', 193 

Sweet fa's the Eve 193 

Las.-ie, art thou sleeping yet ? 193 

Sons' 194 

'Twas na her bon-e blue Ee 194 

Address to tlie Woodlark 195 

How cruel are the Parents., 195 

Mark Yonder Pomp 195 

1 see a form, I see a Face 195 

O bonie was yon rosy Briar 195 

Forlorn, my Love 196 

Last May a braw Wooer , 196 

Hey for a Lass wi' a Tocher 196 

Ali'.io' thou maun never be mine... 19^ 

The Birks of Aberfeldy \^/6 

The young Highland Rover 199 

Stay, my Charmer 199 

Full well thou know'st ... 199 

Strathallan's Lament .. . 199 

Raving Winds around hfr bloM'ing.. -• 199 

Musing on the roaring Ocean 200 

Blithe was slie 200 

Peggy's Charms 20.0 

TheiazyMist 200 

A Rose-bud by my ear'.y Walk 201 



CONTENTS, 



Tibbie, I hae seen theDay... ... 201 

I love my Jean 202 

O, vvute I on Parnassus' Hill 202 

The blissful Day 202 

The Braes o' Ballochmyle 202 

The liappv 'JYio 203 

The blue-eyed Lassie - 203 

John Anderson my Jo 203 

Tarn Glen 203 

Giinw is the Day 204 

My Tocher's the Jewel 204 

W hat can a young Lassie do wi' an Old 

Man? 204 

(), for ane and twenty, Tarn 1 205 

'i'he bonie wee Thing 205 

Tiie Banks of Nith 205 

Bessie and her spinnin' Wheel. 205 

\:;ou)'try Lassie 206 

Fair Eliza 206 

She's fair and fause.. 207 

ThePosie 207 

The Banks o' Doon 208 

Version printed in the Musical Museum 208 

nioomy December 208 

Behold the Hour 209 

Willie's Wife 209 

Afton Water 209 

Louis, what reck I by thee ? 210 

B<mie Bell 210 

For the sake of Somebody 210 

t> May, thy Morn 210 

The lovely Lass of Inverness 211 

A red, red Rose 211 

(), wat ye wha's in yon Town? 211 

AVision 211 

I), wert thou in thecauld blast 212 

The Highland Lassie 212 

Jockey's ta'en the parting Kiss 213 

Peggy's Charms 213 

Up in the Morning early 213 

Tho' cruel Fate 213 

I dream'd I lay where Flowers were 

springing 213 

Bonie Ann 214 

My Bonie Mary 214 

My Heart's in the Highlands 214 

There's a Youth in this City 214 

The rautin Dog the Daddie o't 215 

I do confess thou art sae fair 215 

Yon wild mossy Mountains 215 

VV ha is that at my Bower Door 216 

Farewell to Nancy ... 216 

The bonie Blink o' Mary's Ee.. 216 

Out o'er the Forth 217 

'i'he bonie Lad that's far away 217 

The Gowden Locks of Anna . 217 

Banks of Devon 217 

Adown winding Nith 218 

Streams that glide 218 

The Deil's awa wi' the exciseman 219 

Biifhe hae I been on yon Hill 219 

O were my Love yon Lilac fair 219 

Come, let me take thee 219 

Where are the Joys ? 219 

O saw ye my Dear ? 220 

Thrm hasr, left me ever, Jamie 220 

MyChloris 2m 

Charming Month of May 221 

Let not Woman e'er complain 221 

Puilly ._... 221 



John Barleycorn 222 

Canst thou leave me thus ?.... 223 

On Chloris being ill 223 

When Guilford good our Pilot stood, . .. 223 

The Rigs o' Barley 224 

Farewell to Eliza 224 

MyNanieO 224 

Green grow the Rashes 225 

Now westlin Winds 225 

The big bellied Bottle 226 

The Author's Farewell to his native 

Country 226 

The Farewell .....' 2;i7 

And maun I still on Menie doat 227 

Highland Mary 228 

Auld Lang Syne 228 

Bannockburn 228 

The gallant Weaver , 229 

Song 229 

For a' that and a' that 229 

Dainry Davie 230 

To Mr, Cunningham 230 

Clarinda ,.. 2''0 

Why, why tell thy Lover 231 

Caledonia 231 

On the battle of Sheriflf-Muir 233 

The Dumfries Volunteers 232 

O wha is she that lo'esme ? . ... 233 

Captain Grose 233 

Whistle owre the Lave o't 234 

O, once I lov'd a bonie Lass. ^ 234 

Young Jockey 234 

M'Pherson's FareAvell 23^ 

The Dean of Faculty 2:]S 

I'll ay ca' in by y n\ Town 235 

A Bottle and a Friend.. . 235 

I'll kiss thee yet 236 

On Cessnock Banks 236 

Prayer for Mary 237 

Young Peggy 237 

There^'ll never be peace till Jamie comes 

hame 237 

There was a Lad 238 

To Mary 238 

Mary Morison 238 

The Sodger's Return 239 

My Father was a Farmer 239 

A Mother's Lament for the Death of her 

?on 240 

Bonie Le-ley 240 

Amans: theTrees 241 

When'^first I came to Stewart Kyle 241 

On Sensibiliiy 242 

Montgomerie's Peggy 241 

On a Bank of Flowers 241 

O raging Fortune's wi;hering Blast. , 242 

Evan Banks 242 

Women's Minds 242 

To Mary in Heaven.., 243 

To M&rj 243 

O Leave Novels ,. . 243 

Address to General Dumourier 244 

Sweetest May 244 

One Night as I did wander £41 

The Winter it is Past 244 

Fragment 244 

The ' 'hevalier's Lament 244 

The Belles of Mauchline 245 

The Tarbolton Lasses 245 

The Tarbolton Lasses , 915 



CONTENTS. 



vu 



yk- 



Here's a Health to' them that's awa' . . . , 

I'm owreyouns: to marry yet 

Damon and Sylvia 

"My Lady's Gown there's Gail 8 upon't., 

O ay my Wife sLie dang me 

The Banks of Nith.... , 

Bonie Peg , 

O lay tiiy Loof in mine, Lass 

O giiid Ale comes , 

O why the Deuce ... 

Polly Stewart . 

Robin shure in hairst 

The five Carlins 

The Deuk's dang o'er my'Daddie 

Lass that made the Bed to me 

The Union 

There was a bonie Lass 

My Harry was a Gallant gay,.. ., , 

Tibbie Dunbar 

Wee Willie , 

Craigie burn-wood 

Here's his Health in Water 

As down the Burn they took their Way, 

LadyOnlie 

As I was a Wandering 

Bannocks o' Barley , 

Our Thrissles flourished fiesl .and fair. , 

Peg-a-Ramsey , 

Come boat me o'er to Charlie 

Braw Lads of Galla Water 

Coming; through the Rye 

The Lass of Lcclefechan 

The Slave's Lament 

HadlfheWyte 

HeeBalou 

Mer Daddie forbad 

Here's lo thy He«lth, my bo; de Lass — 

Hey, the dusty Miller ... ... 

The Ciirdin o't 

The joyful Widower 

ThenielMenzie's bonie Mary 

The Farewell . . 

It is na, Jean, thy bonie Face 

Jamie, come try me .. 

Landlady, count the Lawin 

My Love she's but a Lassie j tt 

My Heart was ance 

Lovely Davies 

Kenmure'a on and awa 

The Captain's Lady .... 

Lady l^lary Ann 

The Highland Widow's Lamea^ 



Page 
247 
247 
247 
247 
248 



248 

249 

249 

249 

249 

249 

250 

251 

251 

252 

252 

252 

252 

253 

253 

253 

258 

254 

254 

254 

255 

255 

255 

255. 

256 

256 

256 

256 

257 

257 

257 

258 

258 

258 

258 

259 

259 

259 

259 

260 

260 

260 

261 

261 

261 



Merry hae I been teethin' a Heckle 2^3 

Rattlin', roarin' Willie 262 

OMaily'b metk, Mally's sweet 262 

Sae far awa . 263 

O steer her up... . , 263 

O, whar di*i >e get £63 

The Fett Champetre 264 

fcJmimer's a pleasant lime 264 

The blade red Roffeat Yule may blaw... 264 

The Highlaud Laddie. 263 

The Cooptro' Cuddle .. 265 

Nithsdale's welcome Hame 266 

TheTuilor 266 

Thetither Morn 266 

The Carle of Kellyburn Braes 267 

There was a Lats , 268 

The weary Puiid o' Tow 268 

The Ploughman 269 

The Carles of Dysart 269 

Weary fa' you, Duncan Gray 269 

MyHoggie 270 

Where hae ye been 270 

Cock up your Btaver 270 

The Heron Ballade. First Ballad .... 270 

TheElociion. Second Ballad 272 

An excellent new Song. Third Ballad.. 272 

John Bui^hby"8 Lamentation 272 

Ye Sons of Old Killie 273 

Ye Jacobites byname 274 

Song— Ah, Chloris 274 

Whan I sleep I dream 274 

Katharine Jaffray 275 

The Co lier Laddie. . .. 275 

When I think on the happy Days... ... 274 

Young Jamie, pride of a' the Plain 275 

The Heather was blooming 275 

Wae is my Heart 276 

Eppie M'Nab 276 

An,0!myEpp'e 877 

Gudeen to you Kimmer — 277 

O that I h )d ne'er been married 277 

There's News, Lasses 277 

Scroggam . .' 278 

Fraethe Friends and Land I love 278 

The Laddies by the B'Miks o' Nith.... 278 

The bonie LasS of Albany .- 278 

Song 279 

Appfndix ' — 

rie<ry 281 

E tempore. To Mr. Gavin Hamilton. 281 

Versicles oa Sign-posts 282 



CHROKOLOGICAL TABLF. 



BUKNS'S LIFE AND WOEKS 



ALLOWAY. 
1759. 

January 25.— Robert Burns born at Alloway, parish of Ayr, in a clay -built cottage, the worH 
o/ his father's own hands. Hie father, William Kurnes (so ihe family name was always written 
until chaufjjed by the poet), was a native of Kincardineshire, born November 11, 17;il. His 
mother, Agnes Brown, born March 17, 1733, was dauf^liter of a farmer in Canick, A\rshire. 
The poet's parents were married December 15, 1757. William Burnes was then a gardener and 
farm overseer. 

1765— (Etat. Six). 

Sent to a school at Alloway Mill, kept by one Campbell, who was succeeded in May by John 
Murdoch, a young teacher of uncommon merit, engaged by William Burnes and four of his 
neighbors, who boarded him alternately at their houses, and guaranteed him a small salary. 
Two advantages were thus possessed by the poet— an excellent father and an excellent teacher. 

MOUNT OLIPHANT. 

1766— (Seven). 
William Burnes removed to the farm of Mount Ohpliant, two miles distant. His sons still 
attended Alioway school. The books used were a t^pelling-book, the New Testament, the Bible, 
Mason's Collection of Prose and Verse, im(\. Fisher's English Grammar. 

1768— (Nine). 

Murdoch gave up Alloway school. Visiting the Burnes family before his departure, he 
took with him, as a present, the i)lay of Titus Andronicus. He read part of the play aloud, 
but the horror of the scene shocked and distressed the children, and Kobert threatened to burn 
1 the book if it was left. Instead of it, Murdoch gave them a comedy, the School for Love 

« translated from the French) and an English Grammar. He had previously lent Robert a Life 
f Hannibal, '-'the earliest comijosition that I recollect taking any j)lea8iire in," says the 
')oet, "was the Vision of Mirza, und. a, hymn of Addison's beginning, IIoio are Thy servants 
blest, Lord! I parlicuiarly remember one half-stanza, which was music to my boyish ear, — 

• For though in dreadful whirls we hung] 
nigh on the broken wave 1 ' " 

He had found these in Mason's Collection. The latent seeds of poetry were further cul- 
tivated in his mind by an old woman living in the family, Betty Davidson, who had a great 
■ tore of tales, songs, ghost-stories, and legendary lore. 

1770-(Eleven). 

By the time he was ten or eleven years of age he was an excellent English scholar, " a critic 
In substantives, verbs, and particles." After the departure of Murdoch William Burnes was 
the only instructor of his sons and other children. He taught them aritnmctic, and procured 
for their use Sahnon's Geographical Grammar, IJerham's Physics and Astro- Theology^ and Ilay'^a 
Wisdom of God in the Creation. These gave the boys some idea of Geography, Astronomy, 



± CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE. 

and Natural History, He had al so Stackhonse's Eistory of (he Bible, Taylor's Scripture Doctrine 
of Original Sin, a volume of English History (reigns of James I. and Charles I. ). The black- 
smith lent the common metrical Life of Sir Wiitiafn Wallace (which was read with Scottish 
fervor and enthusiasm), and a maternal uncle supplied a Collection of Letters by ihe wits of 
Queen Anne's reign, which inspired Robert with a strong desire to excel in letter-writing. 

1772-(Thirteen). 

To improve their penmanship, William Burnes sent his song,v. ..vk about, during the 
summer quarter, to the parish school of Dalrymple, two or three miles distant. This year 
Murdoch was appointed teacher of English in Ayr school, and he renewed his acquaintance 
with the Burnes family, sending them Pope's Wovks and "some other pa-;try." 

1773— (Fourteen). 

Robert boarded three weeks with Murdoch at Ayr in order to revise his English Grammar. 
He acquired also a smattering of French, and on returning home he took with him a French 
Dictionary and French Grammar, and a copy of Telemaqve. He attempted Latin, but soon 
abandoned it. 

1774— (Fifteen). 

His knowledge of French introduced him to some respectable families in y^yr(Dr. Mal- 
colm's and others). A lady lent him the /Speo^otor, Pope's //ome/', and several other books. 
In this year began with him love and poetry. His partner in the harvest-field was a " bewitch- 
ing creature" a year younger than himself, Nelly Kilpatrick, daughter of the blacksmith, who 
sang sweetly, and on her he afterwards wrote his first song and first effort at rliyme, 0, once I 
loved a bonnie lass. 

1775— (Sixteen). 

About this time Robert was the principal laborer on the farm. From the unproductiveness 
of the soil, the loss of cattle, and other causes, William Burnes had got into pecuniary diflicuK 
ties, and the threatening letters of the factor (the Jaimlord being dead) used to set the d stressed 
family all in tears. The character of the factor is drawn in the Tale of Twa Doc/s. The hard 
labor, poor living, and sorrow of this period formed the chief cause of the poet's subsequent 
melancholy, frequent headaches, and palpitation of the heart. 

1 776— (Seventeen). 

Spent his seventeenth summer (so in poet's MS. British Museum ; Dr. Curne altered the 
flate to nineteenth) on a smuggling coast in Ayrshire, at Kirko-wald, on purpose to learn men- 
suration, surveying, etc. lie made good progress, though mixing somewhat in the dissipation 
of the place, whicti had then a flourishing contraband trade. Met the second of his po< tical 
hei'oines, Peggy Thomson, on whom he afterwards wrote his fine song. Now westlin winds and 
tlavghVring guns. The charms of this maiden " overset his trigonometry and set him ofl: at 
a tangent from the sphere of his studies." On his return from Kirkoswald (" in my seven- 
teenth year," he writes) he attended a dancing school to "give his m:inners a brush." His 
father had an antipathy to these meetings, and his going " in absolute defiance of his father'.s 
command " (sic in orig.) was an " instance of rebellion " which he conceived brought on him 
the paternal resentment and even dislike. Gilbert Burns dissents altogether from tliis conchi- 
Bion : the poet's extreme sensibility and regret for his one act of disobedience led him 
Unconsciously to exaggerate the circumstances of the case. At Kirkoswald he had enlarged 
his reading by the addition of Thomson's SinA Shenstone's Woi'ks, and among the other booksi 
to which he had access at this period, besides those mentioned above, were some plays of 
Shakespeare, Alta7i Ramsay's Works, Hervey's Meditations, and a Select Collection of English 
Songs (" The Lark," 2 vols.). This last work was, he says, his vade mect/m ; he pored over \\. 
driving his cart or walking to labor, and carefully noted the true, tender or sublime from affec- 
tation and fustian. He composed this year two stanzas, I dream'd I lay wher^ flowers were 
springing. 

LOCHLEA. 

1777— (Eighteen). 

William Burnesand family remove to a larger farm at Lochlea, parish of Tarbolton. Take 
possession at Whitsunday. Affairs for a time look briifhtcr, and all woik diligently. Robert 
'<ind Gilbert have £7 per annum each as wages from their father, and they also take land from 
liim for the purpose of raising flax on their own account. "Though, when young, the poet 
was bashful and awkward in his intercourse with women, as he approached manhood his 
attachment to their society became very strong, and he was constantly the victim of some fair 
enslaver." (Gilbert Burns.) He was in the secret, he says, of half the loves of the parish of 
Tarbolton. 



CHRONOLOGICAL TABLM Xi 



1778— (Nineteen). 
**I was," he says, "about eighteen or iiineteeu when I sketched the outlines of a tragedy.'* 
*£h« whole had escaped his meuiory, except a fragmeiit of twenty Ihies : All devil as lam, etc. 

1780— C'r WEN IT one) . 
The "Bachelors' Club," established at Taibulton by Robert and Gilbert Barns, and five 
other young men. Meetings were held once a month, and questions debated. The sum ex- 
pended by each member was not to exceed threepence. 

1781— (Twenty-two). 
David Sillar admitted a member of the Bachelors' Club. He describes Burns : "I rccol- 
lert heariuij his neighbors ob.-tive lie had a great dtal to say for himself, and that they 
suspected his i-'rinciples (his religious pimciples). He wore the only titd hair in the parish, 
anil in the church his plaid, wliich was of a particular color, I think fi:lem"t, he wrapped in a 
particular maunt r round his slioulders. Between sermons we often took a walk in the fitlds ; 
in thfse walks I have frequently been struck by his facility in addressing the fair sex, and it 
was generally a death-blow to cur conversation, however agreeable, to meet a female acquaint- 
ance. Some book lie always carried and read when not otiierwise employed. It was likewise 
his custom to read at table. In one of my visits to Lochlea, in the tune of a sowen supper, he 
was so intent on reading,— I think Tristratn Shandy,— xhixi his spoon falling out of his hand 
made him exclaim in a tone scarcely imitable, "Alas, Poor Yorick ! ' " The poet had now 
added to his colleciion of books Mackenzie's Man of Feelivg iwhich he said he prized next to 
the Bible) and Man of the Woiid, Sterne's Works, and Marphn>ou's Ossian. He would appear 
also to hsve had the poetical works of Young. Among the fair ores whose society he courted 
was a superior young woman, bearing the unpoeiical name of Ellison Begbie. She was the 
daughter of a small farmer at Galston, but W'as servant with a family on the banks of the 
Cessnock. On her he wrote a " snng of similes," beginning On Cessnock banks there lives a 
la.<is,nnd the earliest of his printed correspondence is addressed to Ellison. His letters are 
grave, sensible epistles, written with remarkable purity and correctnes-- of language. At this 
time poesy was, he says, "a darling walk for his mind." The oldest of his printed pieces 
were [Viriter, a Dirge, the Death of Poor Mailie, John Barleycorn, and the three songs It was 
vjion a Lammas Night, Now tvestlin tvindsand slaughfririg guns, and Behind yon hills where 
Sfinchar flows. We may add to these Tibbie Ihae seen the daif and My father was a farmer. 
His exquisite lyric, OMary, at thy tvindow be, was also, he says, one of his juvenile works. 

1782— (Twenty-three). 
Ellison Begbie refuses his hand. She was about to leave her situation, and he expected 
hims^lf to '• remove a little further off." He went to the town of Irvine. " My twenty third 
year," he says, " was to me an important era. Partly through whim, and partly that I wished 
to set about doing something in life, I joined a flax-dresser in a neighboring town to learn his 
trade, and cany on the business of manufacturing and retailing fiax. This turned out a sadly 
unlucky affair. IMy partner was a scoundrel of ihe first water, who made money by the mystery 
of thieving, and to finish the whole, while we wore giving a welcoming carousal to the New 
Year, our shoi), by the drunken carelessness of my partner's wife, took fire, and was burned to 
ashes ; and left me, like a true poet, not worth a sixpence."* In Irvine liis reading was only 
increasiu. he says, bv two volumes of Pamela, and one of Ferdinand, Count Fathom, which 
gave him some idea of novels. Rhyme, except some religious pieces that are in print, he had 
given up, but meeting with Fergnsson's Scottish Poems, he " strung anew 1 is 1\ re with emulat- 
ing vigor." He also formed a friendship for a young fellow, " a very noble character," Rich- 
ard Brown, and with others >f a freer manner of thinking and living thnn lie had been used to, 
" the consequence of w liich was." he says, " that soon after I resumed the pl>)Ugh, 1 wrotf 
Ihe Poefs TlWc^owe" (to liis illegitimate child). But this was not till the summer of 1784, 
Before leaving Lochlea he became a Freemason. 

MOSSGIEL. 
1784— (Twenty-five). 
_ February 13.— William Burnes died at Lochlea in his sixty-fourth year, his affairs in utter 
ruin. His sons and two grown-up daughters ranked as creditors of their father for arrears of 
wages, and raised a little money to stock another farm. This new farm was that of Mossgiel, 
* From orig. in Brit. Museum. Burns wrote an interesting- and affecting: letter to his father, from 
frvine. Dr. Currie dates it 1781, -which we think is an error. I.'he poet's statement is corroborated by his 
brother's narrative, and the stone chimney of the room occupied Ijy the poet is inseribed, evidently by his 
own hand, " R. B., 1788." Hj consoled himself tor his loss after this fashion: 

" O, why the deuce should I repine. 
And be an ill forebodcr? 
I'm twenty-three, and five feet niike, 
I'll go and be a sodger. 



xii CHRONOLOGICAL TABLB. 

parisli of Mauchline, which had been sublet to them by Gavin Hamilton, writer (or attorney} 

in Mauchline. They entered on the farm in Marcli : '* Come, go to, I will be wise," resolved 
the poet, but bad seed and a late harvest deprived ihem of half their expected crop. Poeiry 
was henceforth to be the only successful vocation of Eobert Burns. To this year may be 
assigned the Epistle to John Jiankine (a Btrain of rich humor, but indelicate), and some minor 
pieces. In April or May he commenced his acquaintance with "Bonnie Jean "—Jean 
Armour— an eveutwhich colored all his future life, imparting to it its brightest lights and its 
darkest shadows. 

1785— (TWENTT-SIX), 

In January the Epistle to Davie completed : Death and Dr. Hornhoolc written aboult 
February. Epistles to J. Lapraik, April 1, 21, and September 13. Epistle to W. Simpson iu 
May. The Tiva Herds, or tlie Holy Tulzie: this satire was the first of his poetic offspring that 
saw the liglit (excepting some of his songs), and it was received by a certain description of the 
clergy, as well as laity, with a " roar of applause." Burns had now taken his side with the 
" New Light," or rationalistic section of the church, then in violent antagonism to the " Auld 
Light," or evangelistic party, which comprised the great bulk of the lower and middling classes. 
To this year belong The Jolly Beggars, Halloween, The Coiter''s Saturday Night, Man was 
made to Mourn, Address to the Deil, To a Mouse, A Winter Night, Holy Willie'' s Prayer, and The 
Holy Fair (early MS. in British Museum), Epistle to Jaines Smith, etc. 

1786~(Twenty-seven). 
In rapid succession were produced Scotch Drink, The Authored Earnest Ci-y and Prayer, 
The Twa Dogs, The Ordination, Address to the Unco Guid, To a Mountain Daisy, Epistle to a 
Toung Friend, A Bard's Epitaph, The Lament, Despondency, etc. Such a body of original 
poetry, written within about twehe mouths, — poetry so Uiitiiral, forcible, and picturesque, so 
quaint, sarcastic, humorous, and tender,— had unquestionably not appeand since Sliakespeare. 
Misfortunes, however, were gathering round the poet. The farm had proved a failure, and the 
connection with Jean Armour brought grief and shame. He gave her a written acknowledgment 
of marriage, but at the urgent entreaty of her father she consented that this document, should be 
destroyed. The poet was frantic with distress and indignation, lie resolved on qiiitling the 
country, and engaged to go out to Jamaica as bookkeeper on an estate, and, to raise money for 
his passage, arranged to publish his poems. Subscription papers were issued in April. In the 
meantime, in bitter resentment of the perfidy, as he esteemed it, of the unfirtunate Jean 
Armour, he renewed his intimacy with a former love, Mary Campbell, or "Highland Mary," 
who had been a servant in the family of Gavin Hamilton, and was now dairy-maid atCoilsfield. 
He proposed marriage to Mary Campbell, was accepted, and Mary left her service and went to 
her parents in Argyleshire, preliminary to her union with the poet. They parted on the banks 
of the Ayr, on Sunday, May 14, exchanging bibles and vowing eternal fidelity. No more is 
heard of Mary until after her death, which took place in October of th's year. The poema 
were published in August, an edition of 600 copies, and were received with enthusiastic 
applause. The poet cleared about £20 by the volume, took a passage in the first ship that was 
to sail from the Clyde (nothing is said of Mary accompanyirg him), and was preparing to 
embark, when a letter from Dr. Blacklock, offering encouragement for a second edition, 
roused his poetic ambition, and led him to try his fortune in Edinburgh. Before starting he 
I made the acquaintance of Mrs. Dunlop of Dunlop, the most valued and one of the most accom- 
I pushed of his correspondents, 
' EDINBURGH. 

November 28, 1786.— Burns reaches the Scottish capital, and instantly brcomes the lion of 
me season. He is courted and caressed by the witty, the fashionable, and the learned— by 

IDugald Stewart, Harry Erskine, Hugh Blair, Adam Ferguson, Dr. Robertson, Lord Monboddo, 
Dr. Gregory, Eraser Tytler, Lord Glencairn, Lord Eglinton, Patrick Miller (the ingenious laird 
of Dalswinton), the fascinating Jane, Duchess of Gordon, Miss Burnet, ttc. Henry 
Mackenzie, the " Man of Feeling," writes a critique on thfi poems in the Lounger, —the mem- 
bers of the Caledonian Hunt subscribe for a hundred copies of the new edition,— and the poet 
is in a fair way, as he says, of becoming as eminent as Thomas a Kempis or JohnBunyan. 

1787— (Taventy-eight.) 
Burns applies for and obtains permission to erect a tombstone in Canongate Churchyard over 
the remains of Fergusson the pot t. In April appears the second edition of the Poems, consist- 
ing of 3000 copies, with a list of subscribers prefixed, and a portrait of the po«t. In this 
edition appe^ared Death and Dr. Hornbook, the 07'dination, and Address to the Unco Guid, 
which were excluded from the first edition, and several new pieces, the best of which are the 
Brigs of Ayr and Tarn Samson'^s Elegy. On the 4th of May the poet sets off on a tour with a 

}roung friend, Robert Ainslie, in order to visit the most interesting scenes in the souih of Scot- 
and. Crossing the Tn'eed over Coldstream bridge. Burns knelt down on the English side and 
poured forth, uncovered, and with strongemotion, the prayer for Scotland contained in the two 
last st:inzas of tlie C'>t/rr's Saturday Night. June 4th, he was made an honorary burgess of the 
town of Dumfries, after which he proceeded to Ayrshire, and arrived at Mauchline on the 9th 
Pt June. *' it will easily be conceived," ©ays Dr. Currie, " with what pleasure and pri4e lie wai 



CHBONOLOGIGAL TABLS. xlfl 

received by his mother, his brothers, and his sisters. He had left tliem poor and conipara. 
tiv'ily friendless; hereturued to tliemhigh in public estimation, and easy in his circumstances." 
At this time the poet renewed his intimacy with Jean Armour. Towards the end of the month 
he made a short Highland tour, in which lie visited Loch Lomond and Dumbarton, and return- 
in? to Mauchline, we find him (July 25) presiding as Lepute Grand Master of tlie Tarboltou 
Mason Lodge, and admitting Proft'Ssior Dugald Stewart, Mr. Alexander, of Ballochmyle, and 
others, as honorary members of the Lodge. On the 25th of August the poet set off from 
Edinburgh on a northern tour with William Nicol of the High School. They visited Bannocli- 
burn, spent two days at Blair with tlie Dulve of Athole and family, i)rocceded as far as 
Inverness, then by way of Elgin, Fochabers (dining with the Duke and Duchess of Gordoi:), on 
to Aberdeen, Stonehaven, and Montrose, where he met his relatives the Burnese?. Ai rived at 
Edinburgh on tlie 16th of Septeml)Lr. In December made the acquaintance of Clarinda, 
or Mrs. M'Lehose, with whom he kept up a passionate correspondence for about thi ee months. 
Overset by a drunken coachman, and sent home with a severely bruised knee, wliicli confined . 
him for several weelis. Mr. A. Wood, surgeon " lang sandy Wood," applies to Mr Graham of i 
Fintry, Commissioner of Excise, and gets Burns' name enrolled among the number ( f expect- ' 
ant Excise ofiicers. During all tlais wmter the poet zealously assists Mr. James Johnson ia 
his publication, the Scots Musical Museum. 

1788— (Twenty-nine). 
Left Edinburgh for Dumfries to inspect Mr. Miller's lands at Dalswinton. Stopped by the 
way at Mossgiel, February 23rd. Poor Jean Armour, who had again loved not wisely, but too 
well, was living apart, separated from her i)arent:^, and supported by Burns. He visited her 
the day before nis departure for Dumfries (apparently February 24th), and it is painful to find 
him writing thus to Clarinda: " I, this morning as I came home, cabed for a certain woman. 
I am disgusted vrith her. I cannot endure her. I, while my heart smote me for the profanity, 
tried to compare ber with my Clarinda ; 'twas setting the expiring glimmer of a farthing taper 
be.^ide the cloudless glory of the meridian sun. Here was tasteless insipidity, vulgarity of 
soul, and mercenary fawning ; there, polished good sense, Heaven-born genius, and the most 
generous, the most delicate, the most tender passion. I liave done with her, and she with 
^le."* In lei^s than two months they were married I In this, as in the Highland Mary episode, 
Bnvns's mobility, or " excfssive susceptibility of immediate impressions,"t seems something 
marvellous, and more akin to the French than the Scotch character. Returned to Edinburgh 
in March, and on the 13th took a le;ise of the farm of Ellisland, on the banks of the Nith. On 
the 19th settled with Creech, the profits of the Edinburgh edition and copyright being about 
£")00, of which the poet gave £180 to his brother Gilbert, as a loan, to enable him to continue 
(with the family) at Mossgiel. In the latter end of April Burns was privately married to Jean 
Armour, and shor'ly afterwards wrote on her his two charming songs 0/ a'' the airts the wind 
can blaxo and 0^ were Ion Parnassus Hill! 

ELLISLAND. 

In June the poet went to reside on his farm, his wife remaiaing at jiauchline until a new 
house should be built at EUisland. Formed the acquaintance of Captain Riddel of Glenriddel, 
a gentleman of literary and antiquarian tastes, who resided at Friars Carse, within a mile of 
Eilisland. On 2Sth June wrote Verses in Friars Carse Hermitage, August 5, the poet at 
Mauchline made public announcement of his marriage before the Kirk Session, at the same 
time giving "a guinea note for behoof of the poor." In December conducted Mrs. Burns t» 
the banks of the Nith. IJiae a wife o' my ain! 

1789— (Thirty). 

Visited Edinburgh in February, and received about £50 more of copyright money from 
Creech. August 18, son born to the poet, named Francis W^allace. About the same time re- 
ceived appointment to the Excise. October 16, the great bacchanalian contest for the W^histle 
took place at Friars Carse in presence of the poet. On the 20th of October (as calculated, and 
indeed proved by Mr. Chambers) the sublime and affecting lyric, To Mary in Heaven, was com- 
posed. Met Grose the antiquary at Friars Carse, and afterwards wrote the humorous poem 
On Captain Grose's Perigrinations. In December was written the election ballad The Five 
Carlines. 

1790- (Thirty-one). 

January 2.— Write-s to Gilbert that his farm is a ruiuuus affair. On the 14th, addressing his 
friend Mr. Dunbar, W. S., lelative to his Excise appointment, he says : " I found it a very 
convenient business to have £50 per annum ; nor have I yet felt any of those mortifying cir- 
cumstances in it I was led to fear." The duties were hard ; he had to ride at least 200 miles 
every week, but he still contributed largely ti the Scots Musical Museum, wrote the elegy On 
Captain Matthew Henderson (one of the most exquisite of the poet's productions), and iu 
autumn produced Tarn O'Shanter, by universal assent the crowning glory and masterpiece 
of its author. 

* From the original, published in " Banffshire Journal." 

+ So defined by Byron. who was hiineelf a victim to this ''unhappy attribute." See '' Don Jnaa,** 
canto xv^, 97, 



Siv CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE, 



1791— (ThIKT Y-TWO) . 

In February wrote Lament of Mary Queen of Scots, and Lament for James Earlof Gteru 
cairn. In March had his right arm broken by the fall of his horse, and was for some weeks 
disabled from writing. In this month also occurred an event which probably caused deeper 
pain than the broken arm. First, as Mr. Chambers says, " we have a poor girl lost to the rep- 
utable world ;" (this was "Anna with the gowden locks," niece to the hostess of the Globe 
Tavern ;) " next we have Burns seeking an asylum for a helpless infant at his brother's ; then, 
a magnanimous wife interposing with the almost romaniicallygenerous offer to become herselfj 
its nurse and guardian.* AprilO, a Ihird son born to the poet, and named William Nicol. Atf 
the close of the month the poet sold his crop at Ellisland, " and sold it well." Declined to 
attend the crowning of Thomson's bust at Ednara, but wrote verses for the occasion. la 
November made a short visit— his last— to Edinburgh, and shortly afterwards wrote his inimi- 
table farewell to Clarinda, Aefoncl kiss and then we sever. The fourth etanza of this 6ong Sir 
Walter Scott said contained " the essence of a thousand love talos." 

DUMFRIES. 

At Martinmas (Nov. 11), the poet having disposed of his stock and other effects at Ellisland, 
and surrendered the lease of the farm to Mr. Miller the proprietor, removed with his family to 
the town of Dumfries. Ee occupied for a year and a half three rooms of a second floor on the 
north side of Bank Slreet (then called the Wee Vennel). On taking up his residence in th<; 
town. Burns was well received by the higher class of inhabitants and the neighboring gentry, 
One of the most accomplished of the latter was Mrs. Walter Riddel nee Maria Woodley), then 
r.gid only about eighteen. This lady, with her husband, a brother of Captain Riddel of Glen- 
riddel, lived on a small estate about four miles from Dumfries, which in compliment to the 
lady they called Woodley Park (now Goldielea). 

1792.— (Thirty-three). 
February 27.— Burns behaved gallantly in seizing and boarding a emuggUng brig in the Sol- 
way. The vessel, with her arms and stores, was sold by auction in Dumfries, and Burns 
purchased four carronades or small lmius, for which he paid £3, These he sent, with a letter, 
to the French Convention, but they were retained at Dover by the Custom-house authoriiies. 
This circumstance is supposed to have drawn on the poet the notice of his jealous superiors. 
Tie warmly sympathized with the French people in their struggle agaii.st despotism, and the 
Board of Excise ordered an inquiry into the poet's political conduct, though it is doubtful 
whether any reprimand was ever given him. In S' ptember, Mr. George Thomf on, Edinburgh, 
commenced his publication of national songs and melodies, and Burns cordially lent assistance 
to the undertaking, but disclaimea all idea or acceptance of j)ecuiiiary remuneration. On the 
14th of November he transmitted to Thomson the song of Hiijliland Mary, and next month 
one of the most arch and humorous of all his ditties, Duncan Ch'ay cam here to woo. 

1793— (Thirtx-four). 
The poet continues his invaluable and disinterested labors for Mr. Tnorason's publica- 
tion. In Julv he makes an excursion into Galloway with his friend Mr. Syme, stamp 
distributor, and according to that gentleman (though Burns's own statement on the subject 
is different), he composed his national song, Scots wha hae. in the midst of a thunderstorm 
on the wilds of Kenmure. The song was sent to Thomson in September, along with one no less 
nopular. Avid Lang Syne. At Whitsuntide the poet removed from the " Wee Yennel " to a 
better house (rent £8 per annum) in the Mill-Hole Brae (now Burns Street), and in this 
house he lived till his death. Bis widow continued to occupy it till her death, JNjarch 26, 1834. 

1794— (Thirty-five). 
' At a dinner-party at Woodley Park, on one occasion the poet, like most of the guests, having 
exceeded in wine, was t;ui ty of some act of rudeness to the accomplished hostess which she 
and htr friends resented veiy warmly. A rupture took place, and for nearly a twelvemonth 
there Avas no intercourse between the parties. During this interval Burns wrote several lam- 
poons on ?ilrs. Riddel, wholly unworthy of him as a man or as a poet. April 4, Captain Riddel 
of Glenriddel died unreconciled to Burns, yet the latter honored his memory with a sonnet. 
August 12, another son born to the poet, and named James Glencairn. During this autumn and 
winter Burns wrote some of his finest songs, inspired by the charms of Jane Lorimer, the 
"Chloris" of many a lyric. In November 1 e composed his lively song. Contented wV little and 
cantie wV mair, which he intended as a picture of lii« own mind ; but it is only, as Mr. 
Chambers says, the picture of one aspect of his mind. Mr. Perry of i\w Morning Chronicle, 

* Mrs. Burns was much attachedto the child, ^vho remained with her till she was seventeen years of 
8ge, when she married a soldier, John Thomson of the Stirling Militia. She is ?till living:, and s.jrongly 
resembles her father. Poor Anna the mother felt deeply the disgrace ; she, however, made a decent ma*" 
. rlage in Leith, but died comparatively young, without any family by her husband. 



CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE. xv 

wishes to engage Burns as a contributor to his paper, but the " truly generous offer " is declined. 
Jest connection with the Whig journal should injur.i his prospects in the Excise. For a short 
time he acted as supervisor, and thought that his political sins were forgiven. 

1795— (Thiett-six). 

In Jaaaary the poet composed his manly and independent song, For 'a that and 'a that. His 
Intercourse with Maria llidclel is renewed, and she sends him occasionally a book, or a copy of 
verses, or a ticket for the theatre. He never relaxes his genial labors for the musical works of 
Johnson and Thompson, ai.d he writes a series of election ballads in favor of the Wh'g candi- 
date, Mr. Heron. He joins the Dumfrieshire corps of Volunteers, enrolled in the month of 
March, and writes his loyal and patriotic song. Does haughty Gaul intasion threat f also his fine 
national strain. Their groves of sweet myrtle let foreign lands reckon^ and one of the best of his 
ballads. Last May a hraw wooer. The poet's health, however, gives way, and premature 
age has set in. 

1795.— (Thirty-seven). 

The decline of the poet is accelerated by an accidental circumstance. One night in January he 
Bat late in the Globe Tavern. There was deep snow on the ground, and in going home he 8;.nk 
down, overpowered by drowsiness and the liquor he had taken, and slept for some hours in the 
open air. Fiom the cold cauudit on this occasion he never wholly recovered. He s; ill, h.»w- 
ever, continued his song-writiiig, and one of the most beautiful and most touching of liis 1\ lics 
was also one of his latest, 'i'his was the song haginmng Here' s a health to ane I lo e dear, 
written on J(.ssy Lewars, a maiden of eighteen, sister to a brother exciseman, who pruved a 
"ministoriig anjiel" to the poet in his last illness. In May, another election called forth 
another ballad, Wha will tmy my troggin? And about the middle of June we find the poet 
writing despondingly to his old fnenci Johnson, and requesting a copy of the Scots Musical 
i5/«/sei/m to prc.<eni, to a young lady. This was no doubt the copy presented to Jissy Lewar.-^, 
June 26, inscribed with'the vt-rses. Thine he the volumes, Jessy fair. As a last effortfor health. 
Burns went on f e4th of July to iJrow, a sea-bathing hamlet on the Sohvay. There he was 
visited by Maria Kiddel, who tliought " the stamp of death was imprinted on his features." lie 
was convinced himself that his illness would prove fatal, and some time before this he had sa'-d 
to his wife, " Don't be afraid ; I'll be more respected a hundred years after I am dead, than I 
am at present." Mrs. Riddel saw the poet again on the 5th of July, when they parted to meet 
no more. On the 7th he wrote to his friend Alexander Cunningham to move the Commissioners 
of Excise to continue his full salary of £oO instead of reducing it, as was the rule in the case 
of excisemen off duty, to £85. Mr. Findlater, his superior officer, says he had no doubt this 
would have bc( n done had the poet lived. On the 10th Burns wrote to his brother as to his 
hopeless condition, his debts, and his despair; and on the same day he addressed a request to 
his father-in-law, stern old James Armour, that he would write to Mrs. Armour, then in Fife, 
to come to the assistance of her daagiiter, the poet's wife, during the time of her confinement. 
Hia thoughts turned also to his friend Mrs. Dnnlop, who had unaccountably been silent for 
sometime. He recalled her interesting correspondence : " With what pleasure did I use to 
break up the seal ! The remembrance adds yet one pulse more to my poor palpitating heart. 
Farewell I" Close on this dark hour of anguish came a lawyer's letter urging p.iyment— and 
no doubt hinting at the serious consequences of non-payment— of a haben ashcr's account. 
This legal missive served to conjure up before the distracted poet the image of a jail with 
all its horrors, and on the 12th he w;'ote two letters— one to his cousin in Montrose begging an 
advance of £10, and one to Mr. George Thomson imploring £5. " Forgive, forgive m ■ I" 
He left the sea-side on the 18th, weak and feverish, but was able the same day, on arriving at 
his house in Dumfries, to address a second note to James Armour, reiterating the wish 
expressed six days before, but w ithout eliciting any reply : '• Do for Heaven's sake, send Mrs. 
Armour here immediately." From this jx riod he was closely confined to b; d (according to the 
f-tatcment of his widow), and was scarcely "himself" for half an hour toijethei-. He was aware 
of this infirmity, and told his wife she was to touch him and remind him when he was going- 
wrong. One day he got out of his bed, and his wife found him sittiuir in a corner of the room 
with his bedclothes about him; she e.ot assistance, and he suffered "himself to be gently Jed 
back to bed. The day before he died he called very quickly and with a halo vo'ce, "Gilbert ! 
Gilbert ! " On the morning of the 21st. at daybreak, death was obvi-^aisiy near at hand, and 
the children wore sent for. They had bf^en removed to the house of Je*=sy Lewars, and her 
brother, in order tliat the poet s dv.elling might be kept quiet, and they v/efe now summoned 
back that they m\giit have a last look of their illustrious father in life. He v.-as insensible, his 

mind lost in d( lirium, and, according to his eldest son. his last words were" That d d rascal, 

Matthew Pen ! "—an execration asrainst the legal agent who had written the dunning letter. 
And so ended this snd and stormy life-drama, and'^the poet passed, as Mr. Carlyle has said, 
"not softly hilt speedily into tha" still country where the hail-storms and fire-showers do not 
reach, and the hejiviest-lanon wayfarer at length lays down his load." On the evening of Sum- 
day, the 24th of July, the poet's remains were removed from his house to U; . 3^0wu Hall, au<i 
next day were interred with military honors, 



THE POEMS OF ROBERT BTTR^9 



THE TWA DOGS. 

A TALE. 

TwAS in that place o' Scotland's isle, 
That bears the name o' Auld King Coil, 
Upon a bonie day in June, 
When wearing thro ' the afternoon, 
Twa dogs, that were na thrang at hame, 
Forgather'd ance upon a time. 

The first I'll name, they ca'd him Caesar, 
Was keepit for his Honour's pleasure : 
His hair, his size, his mouth, his lugs, 
Shew'd he was nane o' Scotland's dogs ; 
But whalpit some place far abroad, 
Where sailors gang to fish for Cod. 

His locked, letter'd, braw brass collar, 
Shew'd him the gentleman and scholar ; 
But tho' he was o' high degree. 
The fient a pride— nae pride had he ; 
But wad hae spent an hour caressin, 
Ev'n wi* a tinkler-gipsey's messin. 
At kirk or market, mill or smiddie. 
iNae tawted dyke, tho' e'er sae duddie. 
But he wad stan't, as glad to see him, 
An' stroan't on stanes and hillocks wi' him. 

The tither was a ploughman's collie, 
A rhyming, ranting, raving billie, 
Wha for his friend and comrade had him, 
An' in his freaks had Luath ca'd him, 
After some dog in Highland sang. 
Was made lang syne — Lord knows how lang. 

He was a gash an' faithfu' tyke, 
As ever lap a sheugh or dike. 
His honest, sonsie, baws'nt face, 
A^ gat him friends in ilka place ; 
Hi breast was white, his touzie back 
Weel clad wi' coat o' glossy black : 
His gawcie tail, wi' upward curl, 
Hung owre his hurdles wi' a swirl. 

Nae doubt but they were fain o' ither, 
An' unco pack an' thick thegither : 
Wi' social nose whyles snuff 'd and snowkit : 
WhjiBs mice and moudieworts thej howkit ; 

n 



18 THE TWA DOGS. 

Whyles scour'd awain lang excursion. 
An' worry'd itlier in diversion ; 
Until wi' daffin weary grown, 
Upon a knowe they sat them down. 
An' there began a lang digression 
About the lords o' the creation. 

I've aften wonder'd, honest Luath, 
What sort o' life poor dogs like you have ; 
An' when the gentry's life I saw, 
' What way poor bodies lived ava. 

Our Laird gets in his racked rents. 
His coals, his kain, an' a' his stents : 
He rises when he likes himsel ; 
His flunkies answer at the bell ; 
He ca's his coach : he ca's his horse ; 
He draws a bonie, silken purse 
As lang's my tail, whare thro' the stceks. 
The yellow letter'd Geordie keeks. 

Frae morn to e'en, it's nought but toiling: 
At baking, roasting, frying, boiling ; 
An' tho' the gentry first are stechin, 
Yet evn the ha' folk fill their pechan, 
Wi'''sauce, ragouts, and such like trastrie, 
That's little short o' downright wastrie. 
Our Whipper-in, wee blastit wonner, 
Poor worthless elf, it eats a dinner, 
Better than ony tenant man 
His Honour has in a' the Ian : 
An' what poor cot-folk pit their painch in 
I own it's past my comprehension. 

LUATH. 

Trowth, Caesar, wdiyles they're fash't enough 
A cotter howkin in a sheugh, 
Wi' dirty stanes biggin a dyke, 
Baring a quarry, and siclike, 
Himsel, a wife, he thus sustains, 
A smytrie o' wee duddie weans. 
An' nought but his han' darg, to keep 
Them right an' tight in thack an' rape. 

An' when they meet wi' sair disasters, 
Like loss o' health, or want o' masters. 
Ye maist wad think, a wee touch langer, 
An' they maun starve o' cauld and hunger; 
But, how it comes. I never kend yet. 
They're maistly wonderfu' contented ; 
An' buirdly chiels, an' cleverhizzies, 
Are bred in sic a way as this is. 

CiESAR. 

But then to see how ye're neglecktt. 
How huff'd, an' cuff'd an* disrcspeckit ! 



IS 



ttOtd, TBan, - -^ ^cniij care vib iiU_«. 
For delvers, ditchers, an' sic cattle. 
They gang as saucy by poor folk, 
As I wad by a stinking brock. 

I've no! iced on our Laird's court day. 
An' mouy a time my heart's been wae. 
Poor tenant bodies, scant o' cash, 
How they maun thole a factor's snash : 
He'll stamp an' threaten, curse an' swear. 
He'll apprehend them, poind their ge;ir : 
While they maun stan', wi' aspect hu:. ;!e. 
An' hear it a', an' fear an' tremble ! 
I see how folk live that hae riches ; 
But surely poor folk maun be wretches. 

LUATH. 

They're no sae wretched's ane wad think : 
Tho' constantly on poortith's brink ; 
They're sae accustomed wi' the sight, 
The view o't gies them little fright. 

Then chance an' fortune are sae guided, 
They'r ay in less or mair provided ; 
An' tho' fatigu'd wi' close employment, 
A blink o' rest's a sweet enjoyment. 

The dearest comfort o' their lives, 
Their grushie weans an' faithfu' wives : 
The prattling things are just their pride. 
That sweetens a' their fire-side. 

An' whyles twapennie worth o' nappy 
Can mak the bodies unco happy ; 
They lay aside their private cares. 
To mind the Kirk and State affairs ; 
They'll talk o' patronage an' priests, 
Wi' kindling fury i' their breasts, 
Or tell what new taxations comin, 
An' ferlie at the folk in Lun'on. 

As bleak-fac'd Hallowmass returns. 
They get the jovial ranting kirns, 
When rural life, o' ev'ry station, 
Unite in common recreation ; 
Love blinks. Wit slaps, an' social Mirth 
Forgets there's Care upo' the earth. 

That merry day the year begins, 
They bar the door on frosty winds ; 
The nappy reeks wi' mantling ream, 
An' sheds a heart-inspiring steam ; 
The luntin pipe, an' sneeshin mill, 
Are handed round wi' right guid will ; 
The cantie auld folks crackin crouse, 
The young anes ranting thro' the house, -^^ 
My heart has been sae fain to see them. 
That I for joy hae barket wi' them. 

Still it's owre true that ye hae said. 
Sic game is now owre af ten placed. 



ZO THE TWA BOGS. 

There's monie a creditable stock 
O' decent, honest, fawsout folk, 
Are riven out baith root an' branch. 
Some rascal's pridefu' greed to quench, 
Wha thinks to knit himsel the faster 
In favour wi' some gentle Master, 
Wha, aiblins, thrang a parliamentin. 
For Britain's guid his saul indentin — 

C^SAR. 

Haith, lad, ye little ken about it ; 
For Britain's guid ! guid faith ! I doubt it. 
Say rather, gaun as Premiers lead them. 
An' sayiug aye or no's they bid him : 
At operas' an' plays parading. 
Mortgaging, gambling, masquerading : 
Or maybe, in a frolic daft. 
To Hague or Calais takes a waft, 
To make a tour, an' tak a whirl, 
To learn bon ton an' see the worl'. 

There, at Vienna or Versailles, 
He rives his father's auld entails ; 
Or by Madrid he taks the rout, 
To thrum guitars, an' fecht wi' nowt ; 
Or down Italian vista startles. 
Whore-hunting amang groves o' myrtles : 
Then bouses drumly German water, 
To mak himsel look fair and fatter. 
An' clear the consequential sorrows, 
Love-gifts of Carnival Signoras. 
For Britain's guid ! for her destruction 1 
Wi' dissipation, feud, an' faction ! 

LUATH. 

Hech, man ! dear sirs ! is that the gate 
They waste sae mony a braw estate ? 
Are we sae foughten an' harass'd 
For gear to gang that gate at last ? 

O would they stay aback frae courts. 
An' please themsels wi' countra sports. 
It wad for ev'ry ane be better, 
The Laird, the Tenant, an' the Cotter 1 
For thae frank, rantin, rambliu billies, 
Fient haet o' them's ill-hearted fellows ; 
Except for breaking o' their timmer. 
Or speaking lightj^y o' their limmer, 
Or shootin o' a hare or moor-cock, 
The ne'er-a-bit they're ill to poor folk. 

But will ye tell me, Master Caesar, 
Sure great folk's life's a life o' pleasure ? 
Nae cauld nor hunger e'er can steer them. 
The vera thought o't need na fear them. 



THE TWA D0Q8, 81 

C^SAR. 

Lord, man, were ye but whyles whare I asp. 
The gentles ye wad ne'er euvy 'em. 

It's true, they need na starve or sweat, 
Thro' winter's cauld, or simmer's heat ; 
They've nae sair wark to craze their banes. 
An' fill auld age wi' grips an' granes : 
But human bodies are sic fools, 
For a' their colleges and schools, 
That when nae real ills perplex them. 
They mak enow themselves to vex them ; 
An' ay the less they hae to sturt them. 
In like proportion, less will hurt them. 

A country fellow at the pleugh, 
His acre's till'd, he's right eneugh ; 
A country girl at her wheel, 
Her dizzen's done, she's unco weel : 
But Gentlemen, an' Ladies warst, 
Wi' ev'n down want o' wark are curst. 
They loiter, lounging, lank, an' lazy ; 
Tho' deil haet ails them, yet uneasy ; 
Their days insipid, dull, an' tasteless ; 
Their nights unquiet, lang, an' restless ; 

An' ev'n their sports, their balls an' races. 
Their galloping thro' public places. 
There's sic parade, sic pomp, an' art. 
The joy can scarcely reach the heart. 

The men cast out in party-matches. 
Then sowther a' in deep debauches. 
Ae night, they're mad wi' drink an' whoring. 
Niest day their life is past enduring. 
The ladies arm-in-arm in clusters, 
As great an' gracious a' as sisters \ 
But hear their absent thoughts o' ither. 
They're a' run deils an' jads thegither. 
Whyles, owre the wee bit cup an' platie. 
They sip the scandal potion pretty ; 
Or lee-lang nights, wi' crabbit leuks, 
Pore ower the devil's pictur'd beuks ; 
Stake on a chance a farmer's stackyard, 
An' cheat like ony unhung'd blackguard. 

There's some exceptions, man an' woman ; 
But this is Gentry's life in common. 

By this, the sun was out o' sight, 
An' darker gloamin brought tl^.e night : 
The bum-clock humm'd wi' lazy drone. 
The kye stood rowtin i' the loan ; 
When up they gat, an' shook their lugs, 
Rejoic'd they were na men but dogs; 
An' each took aff his several way, 
Resolv'd to meet some ither day. 



23 SCOTCH DBINK, 

SCOTCH DRINK. 

Gie him strong drink, until he wink, 

That's sinking in despair; 
An' liquor guid to fire his bluid, 

That's pre!?sed with grief an' care ; 
There let him bou!?e, an' deep carouse, 

Wi bumpers flowing o'er, 
Till he forgets his loves or debts, 

An' minds his griefs no more. 

Solomon's Provbbbs, xxxi. 6, T. 

Let other Poets raise a fracas 

'Bout vines, an' wines, an' drunken Bacchus, 

An' crabbit names an' stories wrack us, 

An'*grate our lug, 
I sing the juice Scotch bear can mak us, 

In ghxss or jug. 

O thou, my I^Iuse ! guid auld Scotch Drink, 
Whether thro' wimplin worms thou jink, 
Or, richly brown, ream owre the brink. 

In glorious faem. 
Inspire me, till I lisp an' wank, 

To sing thy name 1 

Let husky Wheat the haughs adorn, 
An' Aits set up their awnie horn. 
An' Pease an' Beans at een or morn, 

Perfume the plain, 
Leeze me on thee, John Barleycorn, 

Thou King o' grain I 

On the aft Scotland chows her cood, 
In souple scones, the w^ale o' food ! 
Or tumblin in the boiling flood 

Wi' kail an' beef ; 
But when thou pours thy strong heart's blood. 

There thou shines chief. 

Food fills the wame, an' keeps us livin; 
Tho' life's a gift no worth receivin. 
When heavy-dragg'd wi' pine an' grievin ; 

But oil'd by thee, 
The wheels o' life gae down-hill, scrievin, 

Wi' rattlin glee. 

Thou clear the head o' doited Lear : 
Thou cheers the heart o' drooping Care ; 
Thou strings the nerves o' Labour sair, 

At's weary toil : 
Thou even brightens dark Despair 

Wi' gloomy smile. 

Aft, clad in massy, siller weed, 
Wi' Gentles thou erects thy head ; 
Yet humbly kind, in time o' need, 

The poor man's wine. 



saorcii liniNK. ^s 



His wee drap panitch, or his bread, 

Thou kitchens tine. 

Thou art the life o' public haunts ; 

But thee, what were our fairs and rants ? 

Ev'n godly meetings o' the saunts. 

By thee inspir'd, 
"When gaping they besiege the tents, 

Are doubly fir'd. 

That merry night we get the corn in I 
O sweetly, then, thou reams the horn inl 
Or reekin on a New- Year mornin 

In cog or bicker. 
An' just a wee drap sp'ritual burn in. 

An' gusty sucker I 

When Vulcan gies his bellows breath, 
An' ploughmen gather wi' their graith, 
O rare! lo see thee tizz an' freath 

I' th' lugget caup 1 
Then Burnewin comes on like Death 

At ev'ry chaup. 

Nae mercy, then, for airn or steel ; 
The brawnie, banie, ploughman chiel, 
Brings hard owrehip, wi' sturdy wheel, 

The strong forehammw. 
Till block an' studdie ring an' reel 

Wi' dinsome clamour. 

'When skirlin weanies see the light, 
Thou maks the gossips clatter bright. 
How fumblir' cuifs their dearies slight, 

Wae worth the name ! 
Nae Howdie gets a social night, 

Or plack frae them. 

When neebors anger at a plea. 
An' just as wud as w^ud can be : 
How easy can the barley-bree 

Cement the quarrel ! 
It's aye the cheapest Lawyer's fee, 

To taste the barrel. 

Alake ! that e'er my Muse has reason 
To wyte her countryman wi' treason ! 
But monie daily weet their weason 

Wi' liquors nice. 
An' hardly, in a winter's season, 

E'er spier her price. 

Wae worth that brandy, burning trash 1 
Fell source o' monie a pain an' brash ! 
Twins monie a poor, doylt, druken hash, 

O' hash his days ; 
An' sends, beside, auld Scotland's cash 

To her warst f aes. 



^4 TBE A tTHORS EARNEST CRY ASD t^A TER 

Ye Scots, wha wisli auld Scotland well. 
Ye chief, to you my talk I tell, 
Poor plackless devils like mysel' 

It sets you ill, 
Wi' bitter, dearthfu' wines to mell, 

Or foreign gill. 

Hay gravels round bis blather wrench ; 
An' gouts torment him, inch by inch, 
Wha twists his gruntle wi' a glunch 

O' sour disdain, 
Out owre a glass o' Whisky punch 

Wi' honest men I 

O Whisky ! soul o' plays an' pranks I 
Accept a Bardie's grateful thanks ! 
When wanting thee, what tuneless cranks 

Are my poor verses 1 
Thou comes — they rattle i' their ranks 

At ither's a — s ! 

Thee, Ferintosh ! O sadly lost ! 
Scotland, lament frae coast to coast I 
Now colic-grips, an' barkin hoast, 

May kill us a' ; 
For loyal Forbes' charter'd boast 

Is ta'en awa ! 

Thae curst horse-leeches o' th' Excise, 
Wha mak the Whisky Stells their prize ! _ 
Hand up thy ban', Deil ! ance, twice, thrice I 

There, seize the blinkers I 
An' bake them up in brunstane pies 

For poor damn'd drinkers. 

Fortune ! if thou but gie me still 
Hale breeks, a scone, and Whisky gill. 
An' rowth o' ryme to rave at will, 

Tak' a' the rest. 
An' deal't about as thy blind skill 

Directs thee best. 



THE AUTHOR'S EARNEST CRY AND PRAYER 

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE AND HONOURABLE THE SCOTCH REPB.F.«T?.J5JTA- 
TIVES IN THE HOUSE OP COMMONS. 

Dearest of Distillation I iast and best— 
—How art thou lost ?— 

Parody on Milton. 



Ye Irish Lords, ye Knights an' Squires, 
Wha represent our brughs an' shires. 
An' doucely manage our affairs 

In Parliament, 
To you a simple Bardie's prayers 

Are humbly sent 



THE A UTHOBS EAUNEST CRT AND PMA YER 2^ 

Alas ! my roupet muse is hearse ; 

Your Honours' heart wi' grief 'twad pierce. 

To see her sitting on her a — 

Low i' the dust. 
An' scriechin out prosaic verse, 

An' like to brust ! 

Tell them wha hae the chief direction, 
Scotland an' me's in great affliction. 
E'er since they laid that curst restriction 

On Aquavitse ; 
An' rouse them up to strong conviction. 

An' move their pity. 

Stand forth, an' tell yon Premier Youth, 

The honest, open, naked truth : 

Tell him o' mine an' Scotland's drouth, 

His servants humble : 
The muckle devil blaw ye south. 

If ye dissemble ! 

Does ony great man glunch an' gloom ? 
Speak out, an' never fash your thumb 1 
Let posts an' pensions* sink or soom 

Wi' them wha grant 'em : 
If honestly they canna come. 

Far better want 'em. 

In gath'ring votes you were na slack ; ^ 
Now stand as tightly by your tack ; 
Ne'er claw your lug, an' fidge your back. 

An' hum an' haw ; 
But raise your arm, an' tell your crack 

Before them a'. 

Paint Scotland greetin owre her thrissle ; 
Her mutchkin stoup as toom's a whissle ; 
An' damn'd Excisemen in a bussle. 

Seizin a Stell, 
Triumphant crushin't like a mussel 

Or lampit shell. 

Then on the tither hand present her, 

A blackguard Smuggler right behint her. 

An' check-for-chow, a chuffic Vintner, 

Colleaguing join. 
Picking her pouch as bare as Winter 

Of a' kind coin. 

Is there, that bears the name o' Scot, 
But feels his heart's bluid rising hot. 
To see his poor auld Mither's pot 

Thus dung in staves. 
An' plunder'd o' hindmost groat 

By gallows knaves ? 

Alas I I'm but a nameless wight, 
Trode i' the mire out o' sight I 



26 THE A XITH0W8 SAHNEST CRY AND PUAYML 

But could I like Montgomeries fight. 

Or gab like Boswell, 

There's some sark-nccks I wad draw tight. 
An" tie some hose welL 

God bless your Honors, can ye see't, 
The kind, auld, cantie Carliu greet. 
An' no get warmly to your feet, 

An' gar them hear it ? 
An' tell them, wi' a patriot-heat. 

Ye winna bear it I 

Some o' you nicely ken the laws. 
To round the period an' pause, 
An' with rhetoric clause on clause 

To make harangues ; 
Then echo thro' Saint Stephen's wa's 

Auld Scotland's wrangs. 

Dempster, a true blue Scot I'se warran ; 
Thee, aith-detesting, chaste Kilkerran ; 
An' that glib-gabbet Highland Baron, 

The Laird o' Graham ; 
An' ane, a chap that's damn'd auldfarran, 

Dundas his name. 

Erskine, a spunkie Norland billie ; 
True Campbells, Frederick an' Hay ; 
An' Livingstone, the bauld Sir Willie ; 

An' monie ithers, 
Whom auld Demosthenes or TuUy 

Might own for brithers. 

Arouse, my boys ! exert your mettle. 
To get auld Scotland back her kettle ; 
Or faith ! I'll wad my new pleugh-pettle, 

Ye'U see't or lang. 
She'll teach you, wi a recking whittle, 

Anither sang. 

This while she's been in crankous mood. 
Her lost Militia tir'd her bluid ; 
(Deil na they never mair do guid, 

Play'd her that pliskie I) 
An' now she's like to rin red-wud 

About her Whisky. 

An' Lord, if ance they pit her till't, 
Her tartan petticoat she'll kilt, 
An' durk an' pistol at her belt. 

She'll tak the streets, 
An' rin her whittle to the hilt, 

I' th' first she meets ! 

For God sake. Sirs ! then speak her fair. 
An' straik her cannic wi' the hair. 
An' to the muckle house repair, 

Wi' instant speed. 



THE A XTTEOR'S EAUNEST CRT AND PRATER, 27 

An' strive, wi' a' your wit and lear, 
To get remead. 

Yon ill-tongu'd tinkler, Charlie Fox, 
May taunt you wi' his jeers an' mocks ; 
But gie him't het, my liearty cocks I 

E'en cowe the cadie J 
An' send him to his dicing-box 

An' sportin lady. 

Tell yon guid bluid o' auld Boconnock's 
I'll be his debt twa mashlum bonnocks, 
An' drink his health in auld JSfanse Tinnock's 

Nine times a-week, 
If he some scheme, like tea an' winnocks. 

Wad kindly seek. 

Could he some commutation broach, 
I'll pledge my aith in guid braid Scotch, 
He need na fear their foul reproach 

Nor erudition. 
Yon mixtie-maxtie queer hotch-potch. 

The Coalition. 

Auld Scotland has a raucle tongue ; 
She's just a devil wi' a rung ; 
An' if she promise auld or young 

To tak their part, 
Tho' by the neck she should be strung, 

She'll no desert. 

An' now, ye chosen Five-and-Forty, 
May still your Mither's heart support ye ; 
Then, though a Minister grow dorty. 

An' kick your place, 
Ye'U snap your fingers, poor an' hearty, 

Before his face. 

God bless your Honors a' your days, 
Wi' sowps o' kail an' lyi-ats o' claise, 
In spite o' a' the thievish kaes 

That haunt St. Jamie's ! 
Your humble Bardie sings an' prays 

While Kab his name is. 

POSTSCRIPT. 

Let half -starved slaves, in warmer skies, 
See future wines, rich-clust'ring rise ; 
Their lot auld Scotland neer envies, 

But blythe and frisky. 
She eyes her free-born, martial boys, 

Tak aff their Whisky. 

What th j' their Phoebus kinder warms, 
Whib fragrance blossoms an' beauty charms J 
Wb.en wretches range, in famish'd swarms. 
The scented groves. 



23 TBE EOL T FAIR 

Or hounded forth, dishonour arms 

In hungry droves. 

Their gun's a burden on their shouther ; 
They downa bide the stink o' powther ; 
Their bauldest thouglit's a hank'riug swithel 

To Stan' or rin, 
Till skelp— a shot— they're aff, a' throwther. 

To save their skin. 

But bring a Scotsman frae his hill, 
Clap in his cheek a Highland gill. 
Say, such is royal George's will, 

An' there's the foe, 
He has nae thought but how to kill 

Twa at a blow. 

Nae cauld, faint-hearted doubtings tease him ; 
Death comes, wi' fearless eye he sees him ; 
Wi' bluidy han' a welcome gies him ; 

An' when he fa's, 
His latest draught o' breathin lea'es him 

In faint huzzas. 

Sages their solemn ecu may steek. 
An' raise a philosophic reck. 
An' physically causes seek, 

In clime an' season ; 
But tell me Whiskey's name in Greek, 

I'll tell the reason. 

Scotland, my auld, respected Mither 1 
Tho' whyles ye moistify your leather, 
Till whare ye sit, on craps o' heather, 

Ye tine your dam ; 
Freedom and Whisky gan tlicgither ! 

Tak aff your dram I 

THE HOLY FAIR. 

A robe of ?eeming truth and trust 
Hid crafty Observation ; 
And secret hung, with poison'd crust, 
The dirlv of Defamation ; 
A ma!?k that like the gorget show'd, 

Dye-varying on tlie pigeon ; 
And for a mantle large and broad, 
He wrapt him in Eeligion. 

Hypocrisy a-la-mode. 

tJpoN a simmer Sunday morn. 

When Nature's face is fair, 
I walked forth to view the corn. 

An' snuff the caller air. 
The risin' sun, owre Galston muirs, 

Wi' glorious light was glintin ; 
The hares were hirplin down the furrs. 

The lav'rocks they were chantin 

Fu' sweet that dfay. 



THE UOLT FAIR. 89 

As lightsomely I glowr'd abroad. 

To see a scene sae gay. 
Three Hizzies, early at the road, 

Cam skelpin up the way. 
Twa had manteeles o' dolefu' black. 

But ane wi' lyart lining ; 
The third, that gaed a wee a-back. 

Was in the fashion shining 

Fu' gay that day. 

The twa appear'd like sisters twin, " , 

In feature, form, an' claes ; 
Their visage wither'd, lang an' thin. 

An' sour as ony slaes : 
The third cam up, hap-step-an'-lowp. 

As light as ony lambie. 
An' wi' a curchie low did stoop, 

As soon as e'er she saw me, 

Fu' kind that day, 

Wi' bonnet aff, quoth I, *' Svveet lass, 

I think ye seem to ken me ; 
I'm sure I've seen that bonie face. 

But yet I canna name ye." 
Quo' she, an' laughin' as she spak, 

An' taks me by the ban's. 
Ye, for my sake, hae gi'en the feck 

Of a' the ten comman's 

A screed some day. 

" My name is Fun — your cronie dear. 

The nearest friend ye hae ; 
An' this is Superstition here. 

An' that's Hypocrisy. 
I'm gaun to Mauchliiie Holy Fair, 

To spend an hour in daffin : 
Gin ye'll go there, yon runkl'd pair, 

We will get famous laughin 

At them this day." 

Quoth I, "With a' my heart, I'll do't : 

I'll get my Sunday's sark on, 
An' meet you on the holy spot ; 

Faith, we'se hae fine remarkin I " 
Then I gaed hame at crowdie time, 

An' soon I made me ready ; 
For roads were clad, frae side to side, 

Wi' monie a wearie bodie, 

In droves that day. 

Here, farmers gash, in ridin graith 

Gaed hoddin by their cotters. 
There, swankies young, in braw braid-claithp 

Are springin owre the gutters. 
The lasses, skelpin barefit, thrang, 

Jja silk5 an' scarlets glitter ; 



80 TEE EOL Y FAIR 

Wr sweet-milk cheese, in monie a whang. 
An' farls, bak'd wi' butter, 

Fu' crump that day. 

When by the plate we set our nose, 

Weel heaped up wi' ha'pence, 
A greedy glowr Black Bonnet throws. 

An' we maun draw our tippence. 
Then in we go to sec the show. 

On ev'ry side they're gath'rin, 
Some carryin dails, some chairs an' stools. 

An' some are busy bleth'rin 

Right loud that day. 

Here stands a shed to fend the show'rs. 

An' screen our countra gentry ; 
There, racer Jess, an' twa-three whores. 

Are blinkin at the entry. 
Here sits a raw o' titlin jades, 

Wi' heaving breast an' bare neck, 
An' there, a batch o' wabster lads. 

Blackguarding frae Kilmarnock 

For fun this day. 

Here, some are thinkin on tlieir sins. 

An' some upo' their claes ; 
Ane curses feet that fyl'd his shins, 

Anither sighs an' praj's : 
On this hand sits a chosen swatch, 

Wi' screw'd up, grace-proud faces ; 
On that, a set o' chaps, at watch, 

Thrang wiukin on the lasses 

To chairs that dayo 

O happy is that man an' blest ! 

Nae wonder that it pride him ! 
Wha's ain dear lass, that he likes best, 

Comes clinkin down beside him 1 
Wi' arm repos'd on the chair-back. 

He sweetly does compose him ; 
Which, by degrees, slips round her neck, 

An's loof upon her bosom 

Unkend that day. 

Now a' the congregation o'er 

Is silent expectation ; 
For Moodie speels the holy door, 

Wi' tidings o' damnation. 
Should Hornie, as in ancient days, 

'Mang sous o' God present him. 
The verra sight o' Hoodie's face, 

To's ain bet hame had sent him 

Wi' fright that day. 

Hear how he clears the points o' faith 
Wi' rattlin and wi' thumpin ! 



THE SOL T FAIR. ^^ 

Kow meekly calm, now wild in wrath. 

He's stanipin an' he's jumpin ! 
His leugtlien'd chin, his turned-up snout. 

His eldritch squeel an' gestures, 
O how they fire the heart devout, 

Like cantharidian plasters, 

On sic a day ! 

But, hark \ the tent has chang'd its voice -, 

There's peace an' rest nae langer : 
For a' the real judges rise, 

They canna sit for anger. 
Smith opens out his cauld harangues. 

On practice and on morals ; 
An' alf the godly pour in thrangs, 
• To g; e the iars an' barrels 

A lift that day. 

What signifies his barren shine 

Of moral po^'rs an' reason ? 
His E iglish style, an' gesture fine. 

Are a' clean out o' season. 
Like Locrates or Antonine, 

Or some auld pagan Heathen, 
The moral man he doth define, 

But ne'er a word o' faith in 

That's right that day. 

In guid time comes an antidote 

Agains' sic poison'd nostrum ; 
For Peeblfco, frae the water-fit, 

Ascends th«i holy rostrum : 
See, up he's got the word o' God^ 

An' meek an' mim has view'd it. 
While Common Sense has ta'en the road. 

An' aft", an' up the Cowgate 

Fast, fast, that day. 

Wee Miller, neist, the Guard relieves. 

An' orthodoxy raibles, 
Tho' in his heart he weel believes, 

An' thinks it auld wives' fables : 
But, faith ! the birkie wants a Manse, 

So, cannilie he hums them ; 
Altho' his carnal wit an' sense ■ 

Like hafflins-wise o'ercomes him 

■ At times that day. 

Kow, butt an' ben, the Change-house fills, 

Wi' yill-caup Commentators : 
Here's crying out for bakes an' gills, 

An' tliere the piot-stowp clatters ; 
While thick an' thrang, and loud an' lang, 

Wi' logic, an' wi' Scripture, 
They raise a din, that in the end 

Is like to breed a rupture 

O' wrath that day. 



32 THE HOLT FAIR, 

Leeze me on Drink 'i it gi'es us mair 

Than either School or College : 
It kindles Wit, it waukens Lair, 

It pangs us fou o' Knowledge. 
Be't whisky gill or penny wheep, 

Or ony stronger potion, 
It never fails, on drinkin' deep, 

To kittle up our notion 

By night or day. 

The lads an' lasses, blythely bent 

To mind baith saul an' body, 
Sit round the table, weel content, 

An' steer about the toddy. 
On this ane's dress, an' that ane's leuk. 

They're makin observations ; 
While some are cozie i' the neuk, 

An' formin assignations 

To meet some day. 

But now the Lord's ain trumpet tc its, , 

Till a' the hills are rairin. 
An' echoes back return the shouts ; 

Black Russel is na spairin : 
His piercing words, like Highlan swords. 

Divide the joints an' marrow ; 
His talk o' Hell, where devils dwell. 

Our very " sauls does harrow " 

Wi' fright that day J 

A vast, unbottom'd, boundless pit, 

Fill'd fou o' lowin brunstane, 
Wha's ragin flame, an' scorchin heat, 

Wad melt the hardest whun-stane 1 
The half asleep start up wi' fear. 

And think they hear it roarin, 
When presently it does appear, 

"Twas but some neighbor snorin 

Asleep that day. 

'Twad be owre lang a tale to tell 

How monie stories past. 
An' how they crowded to the yill, 

When they were a' dismist": 
How drink gaed round, in cogs an' caups, 

Amang the furms and benches ; 
An' cheese an' bread, frae women's laps. 

Was dealt about in lunches. 

An' dawds that day. 

In comes a gaucie, gash Guidwife, 

An' sits down by the fire 
Syne draws her kebbuck an' her knife ; 

The lasses they are shyer. 
The auld Guidmen, about the grace, 

Frae side to side they bother. 



DEATH AND DOCTOR HORNBOOK. 

Till some ane by his bonnet lays 
An' gi'es them't like a tether, 

Fu' lang that day. 

Waesucks ! for him that gets nae lass. 

Or lasses that hae naething ! 
Sma' need has he to say a grace, 

Or melvie his braw claithing ! 
O Wives, be mindfu', ance yoursel 

How bonie lads ye wanted, 
An' dinna, for a kebbuck-heel. 

Let lasses be affronted 

On sic. a day ! 

Now Clinkumbell, wi' rattling tow. 

Begins to jow and croon ; 
Some swagger hanie, the best they dow. 

Some wait the afternoon. 
At slaps the billies halt a blink, 

Till lasses strip their shoon : 
Wi' faith an' hope, an' love an' drink, 

They're a' in famous tune 

For crack that day. 

How monie hearts this day converts 

O' sinners and o' lasses ! 
Their hearts o' stane, gin night, are gane 

As saft as on^- flesh is. 
There's some are fou o' love divine. 

There's some are fou o' brandy ; 
An' monie jobs that day begin, 

May end in Houghmagaudie 

Some ither day. 



DEATH AND DOCTOR HORNBOOK. 

A TRVE STORY. 

Some books are lies frae end to end, 
And some great lies were never penn'd : 
Ev'n Ministers^ they hae been kenn'd. 

In holy rapture, 
A rousing whid, at times, to vend. 

And nail't wi' Script ure. 

But this that I am gaun to tell, 
Whic^ lately on a night befell, 
^ just as true's the Deil's in hell 

Or Dublin city : 
That e'e • he nearer comes ourse'i 

's a muckle pity. 

The Clachan yill had made me canty. 

I wasna fou, but just had plentv ; 

I stacher'd -v hyles, but yet took tent »y 

To free the ditcUes : 



34 DEATll AND DOCTOR IIOBNBOOK. 

An' hillocks, stanes, an' bushes, kenn'd ay 

Frae ghaists an' wit^ihes. 

The rising moon began to glowr 
The distant Cumnock hills out-owre : 
To count her horns, wi' a' my pow'r, 

I set mysel ; 
But whether she had three or four, 

I cou'd na tell. 

I was come round about the hill, 
And todlin down on AVillie's mill. 
Setting my staff, wi' a" my skill, 

To keep me sicker ; 
Tho' leeward whylcs, against my will, 

I took a 'bicker. 

I there wi' Something did forgather. 

That pat me in an eerie swither ; 

An awfu' scythe, out-owre ae sliouther. 

Clear-dangling, harg: 
A three-taed leister on the ither 

Lay, large an' lang. 

Its stature seem'd lang Scotch ells twa, 
The queerest shape that e'er I saw. 
For lient a wame it had ava, 

And then its shanks. 
They were as thin, as sharp an' sma' 

As cheeks o' l^-anks. 

" Guid-cen," quo' I ; " Friend ! hae 3'^u beei- r^^irV^'^; 
When ither folk are busy sawin ? " 
It seem'd to make a kind o' stan', 

But naething spqk ; 
At length, says I, " Friend, wliare ye gau'i', 

Will ye go back ? " 

It spak right howe — " M}^ name is Death, 
But be na tiey'd." — Quoth I, " Guid faith, 
Ye're maybe come to stop my breath ; 

But tent me, billi^ * 
I red ye weel, tak car o' skaith, 

See, there's a gully \ " 

"Gudeman," quo' he," put up your whittle, 
I'm no designed to try its mettle ; 
But if I did, I wad be kittle 

To be mislear'd, 
I wad na mind it, no that spittle 

Out-owre my beard." 

" Weel, weel ! " says I, " a baKgain be't ; 
Come, gics your hand, an sae we're gree't \ 
We'll ease our shanks an' tak a seat. 

Come gies your news ; 
This while jv. hae been mony a gate, 

4-t. mony a house." 



DEATH ANL DOCTOR HORNBOOK. ^5 

*' Ay, ay !" quo' he, an' shook his head, 
*' It's e'en a lang, lang thne indeed 
Sin' I began to nick the thread, 

An' choke the breath : 
Folk maun do something for their bread, 

An' sae maun Death. 

" Sax tliousand years are near-hand fled. 

Sin' I was to the butchin^ bred, 

An' mony a scheme in vaiu's been laid, 

To stap or scaur me ; 
Till ane Hornbook's ta'en up the trade, 

An' faitli, he'll waur me- 

" Ye ken Jock Hornbook i' the Clachan, 
Deil mak his king's-hood in a spleuchan ! 
He's grown sae well acquaint wi' Buchan 

An' ither chaps, 
The weans hand out their fingers lauglnn 

And pouk my hips. 

" See, here's a scythe, and there's a dart, 
They hae picrc'd mony a gallant heart ; 
But Doctor Hornbook, wi' his art 

And cursed skill, 
Has made them baith no worth a f — t, 

Damn'd haet they'll kill 

'* 'Twas but yestreen, nae farther gaen, 

I threw a noble throw at ane ; 

Wi' less, I'm sure, I've hundreds slain : 

But deil-ma-care. 
It just play'd dirl on the bane, 

But did nae mair. 

"Hornbook was by, wi' ready art, 
And had sae fortify'd the part, 
That when I looked to my dart, 

It was sae blunt, 
Fient haet o't wad hae pierc'd the heart 

O' a kail-runt. 

" I drew my scythe in sic a fury, 
I near-hand cowpit wi' my hurry, 
But yet the bauld Apothecary 

Withstood the shock ; 
I might as weel hae try'd a quarry 

O' liard whin rock. 

" E'en them he canna get attended, 
Altho' their face he ne'er had kend it. 
Just sh — in a kail-blade, and send it, 

As sooii's he smell8% 
Baith their disease, and what will mend it. 
At once he tells't. 

*' And then, a' doctor's saws and whittles. 
Of a' dimensious. shapes, an' mettles, 



36 BE A TH AIT'^ DOVTOU HORNBOOK. 

A' kinds o' boxes, mugs, an' bottles, 

He's sure to hae ; 

Their Latin names as fast he rattles 
As A B C. 

" Calces o' fossils, earths, and trees ; 
True Sal-marinuni o' the seas ; 
The Farina of beans and pease, 

He has't in plenty ; 
Aqua fontis, what you please. 

He can content ye. 

" Forbye some new, uncommon weapons, 

Urinns Spiritus of capons ; 

Or Mite-horn shavings, tilings, scrapings, 

Distil'd jjc;' se ; 
Sal-alkali o' Midge-tail clippings. 

And mony mae." 

** Waes me for Johnny Gi'd's Hole now," 
Quoth I, "if that thae news be true ! 
His braw calf- vard whare gowans grew, 

Sae white and bonie, 
Nae doubt they'll rive it wi' the p!ew ; 

They'll ruin Johnnie P 

The creature grain'd an eldritch laugh, 
And says, " Ye needna yoke the pleugh, 
Kirk-yards will soon be till'd eneugh, 

Tak ye nae fear : 
They'll a' be trench'd wi' mony a sheugh 

In twa-three year. 

*' Whare I kill'd ane a fair strae-death. 
By loss o' blood or want of breath. 
This night I'm free to tak my aith, 

That Hornbook's skill 
Has clad a score i' their last claith, 

By drap and pill. 

"An honest Wabster to his trade, 

Whase wife's tu'a nieves were scarce well-bred. 

Gat tippence- worth to mend her head, 

When it was sair ; 
The wife slade cannie to her bed, 

But ne'er spak mair. 

*' A countra Laird had ta'en the batts, 
Or some curmurring in his guts. 
His only son for Hornbook sets, 

An' pays him well. 
The lad, for twa guid gimmer-pets, 

Was Laird himsel. 

" A bonuie lass, ye kend her name, 

Some ill-brewn drink had hov'd her wame : 

She trusts hersel, tp hide the shame, 

In Hornbook's care ; 



THE BRIG h fyjp ^iH. 97 

Horn sent Lor ail to her lang harae, 

To hide it there. 

" That's just a swatch o' Hornbook's way ; 
Thus goes he on from day to day, 
Thus does he poison, kill, an' slay, 

An's weel pay'd for*t ; 
Yet stops me o' my lawfu' prey, 

Wi' his damn'd dirt. 

" But, hark ! I'll tell you of a plot, 
Tho' dinna ye be speaking o't ; 
I'll nail the self-conceited Sot 

As dead's a herrin : 
Niest time we meet, I'll wad a groat, 

He gets his fairin I " 

But just as he began to tell, 

The auld kirk-hammer strak the bell 

Some wee, short hour ayont the twal. 

Which rais'd us baith : 
I took the way that pleas'd mysel, 

And sae did Death. 



. THE BRIGS OF AYR. 

A POEM. 
INSCRIBED TO JOHN BALLANTINE, ESQ,, AYR. 

The simple Bard, rough at the rustic plough. 

Learning his tuneful trade from ev'ry bough ; 

The chanting linnet, or the mellow thrush ; 

Hailing the setting sun, sweet, in the green thorn bush % 

The soaring lark, the perching red-breast shrill, 

Or deep-ton'd plovers, grey, wild-whistling o'er the Mile 

Shall he, nurst in the Peasant's lowly shed, 

To hardy independence bravely bred. 

By early poverty to hardship steel'd. 

And train'd to arms in stern Misfortune's field ; 

Shall he be guilty of their hireling crimes. 

The servile, mercenary Swiss of rhymes ? 

Or labour hard the panegyric close. 

With all the venal soul of dedicating Prose ? 

No! though his artless strains he rudely sings. 

And throws his hand uncouthly o'er the strings. 

He glows with all the spirit of tl^e Bard, 

Fame, honest fame, his great, his aear reward. 

Still, if some Patron's gen'rous care he trace, 

Skill'd in the secret, to bestow with grace ; 

When Ballantyne befriends his humble name 

And hands the rustic Stranger up to fame, 

With heartfelt throes his grateful bosom sweUs 

The godlike bliss, to give, alone excels. 



3 8 THE BRiaS OF A YR. 

'Twas when the stacks get on their -winter-hap. 
And thack and rape secure the toil-won crap ; 
Potatoe-bings are snugged up frac skaith 
O' coming Winter's biting, frosiy breath ; 
The bees, rejoicing o'er their summer toils, 
Unnumber'd buds and fiow'rs, delicious spoils, 
Seal'd up with frugal care in massive waxen piles, 
Are doom'd by man, that tyrant o'er the weak, 
Tlie death o' devils, smoor'd wi' brimstone reek: 
The thund'ring guns are heard on ev'ry side. 
The wounded coveys, reeling, scatter wide ; 
The feather'd lield-mates, bound by Nature's tie, 
Sires, mothers, children, in one carnage lie : 
(What warm, poetic heart, but inly bleeds, 
And execrates man's savage, ruthless deeds !) 
Nae mair the flow'r in field or meadow springs ; 
Nae mair the grove Avith airy concert rings, 
Except perhaps the Robin's whistling glee, 
Proud o' the height o' some bit half-lang tree : 
The hoary morns precede the sunny days. 
Mild, calm, serene, wide spreads the noontide blaze. 
While thick the gossamour waves wanton in the rays. 

'Twas in that season ; when a simple Bard, 
Unknown and poor, simplicity's reward, 
Ae night, within the ancient brugli of Ayr, 
By whim inspir'd. or hapl}^ prest wi' care. 
He left his bed and took his wayward rout. 
And down by Simpson's wheel'd the left about : 
(Whether impell'd by all-directing Fate, 
To witness what I after shall narrate ; 
Or whether, rapt in meditation high. 
He wander'd out he knew not where nor why :) 
The drowsy Dungeon clock had number'd two, 
And Wallace Tow'r had sworn the fact was true : 
The tide-swoln Firth, wi' sullen-sounding roar. 
Through the still night dash'd hoarse along the shore 
All else was hush'd as Nature's closed e'e ; 
The silent moon shone high o'er tow'r and tree : 
The chilly frost, beneath the silver beam. 
Crept, gentl3'--crusting, owre the glittering stream. — 

When, lo ! on either hand the list'ning Bard, 
The clanging sugh of whistling wings is heard ; 
Two dusky forms dart thro' the midnight air, 
Swift as the Gos drives on the wheeling hare ; 
Ane on th' Auld Brig his airy shape uprears. 
The ither flutters o'er the rising piers : 
Our warlock Rhymer instantly descry'd 
The Sprites that owre the Brigs of Ayr preside. 
(That Bards are second-sighted is nae joke. 
And ken the lingo of the sp'ritual folk ; 
Fays, Spunkies, Kelpies, a', they can explain them, 
And ev'n the vera deik they brawly ken them.) 
Auld Brig appear'd o' ancient Pictish race, 
The vera wrinkles Gothic in his face : 



THE Bix±xxiS OF A YB. 39 

He seem'd as he wi' Time bad warstl'd lang. 
Yet, teughly doiire, he bade au luico bang. 
New Brfg was buskit, in a braw new coat, 
That lu!,"at Lon'on, frae ane Adams got ; 
In's hand live taper staves as smooth's a bead, 
Wi' virls an' whirlygigunis at the head. 
The Goth was stalking round with anxious search. 
Spying the time-worn flaws in evry arch \ 
It clianc'd liis new-come neebor took liis e'e. 
And e'en a vex'd and angry heart had he ! 
Wi' thieveless sneer to see his modish mien, 
He, down the water, gies him this guid-een : — 

AULD BEIG. 

I doubt na, Frien', yell think ye're nae sheep-shank, 
4-iice ye were streekit owre frae bank to bank ! 
But gin ye be a brig as auld as me, 
Tho', faith ! that date, I doubt, ye'll never see ; 
There'll be, if that day come, I'll wad a boddle. 
Some fewer whigmeleeries in your noddle. 

NEW BRIG. 

Auld Yandal, ye but show your little mense. 
Just much about it wi' your scanty sense ; 
Will your poor, narrow foot-path of a street, 
Where tw^a wheelbarrows tremble when they meet. 
Your ruin'd, formless bulk o' stane and lime, 
Compare wi' bonie Brigs o' modern time ? 
There's men of taste wou'd tak the Ducat-stream, 
Tho' they should cast the vera sark and swim, 
Ere they would grate their feelings wi' the view 
O' sic an ugly, Gothic hulk as you. 

AULD BRIG. 

Conceited gowk ! puff'd up wi' windy pride ! 
This mony a year I've stood the flood an' tide ; 
And tho' wi' crazy eild I'm sair forfairn. 
I'll be a Brig, when ye're a shapeless cairn ! 
As yet ye little ken about the matter, 
But twa-three winters will inform ye better. 
When heav}^ dark, continued, a'-day rains, 
Wi' deepening deluges o'erflow the plains ; 
When from the hills where springs the brawling Coil, 
Or stately Lugar's mossy fountains boil. 
Or where the Greenock winds his moorland course 
Or haiuited Garpal draws his feeble source, 
Arous'd by blust'ring winds an' spotting thowes ; 
In mony a torrent down his snaw-broo rowes ; 
While crashing ice, borne on the soaring spate, 
Sweeps dams, an' mills, an' brigs, a' to the gate ; 
A.nd from Glenbuck, down to the Ratton-key, 
Auld Ayr is just one lengthen'd, tumbling sea ; 
Then down ye'll hurl, dJil nor ye never rise 1 
And dash the gumlie jaups up to the pouring skies. 



^^ 'THE BRIGS OF A TR, 

A lesson sadly teaching, to your cost, 
That Architecture's noble art is lost ! 

NEW BRIG. 

Fine Architecture, trowth, I needs must say't o*ts. 
The Lord be thankit that we've tint the gate o't ! 
Gaunt, ghastly, ghaist-alluring edifices. 
Hanging with threat'ning jut, like precipices ; 
O'er arching, mouldy, gloom-inspiring coves. 
Supporting roofs, fantastic, stony groves : 
Windows and doors in nameless sculptures drest. 
With order, symmetry, or taste unblest ; 
Forms like some bedlam Statuary's dream. 
The craz'd creations of misguided whim ; 
Forms might be worshipp'd on the bended knee. 
And still the second dread command be free, 
Their likeness is not found on earth, in air, or sea. 
Mansions that would disgrace the building taste 
Of any mason reptile, bird, or beast ; 
Fit only for a doited monkish race. 
Or frosty maids forsworn the dear embrace. 
Or cuifs of later times, wha held the notion. 
That sullen gloom was sterling, true devotion ; 
Fancies that our guid Brugh denies protection, 
And soon may they expire, unble&t with resurrectiea ! 

AULD BRIG. 

O ye, my dear-remember 'd, ancient yealings. 
Were ye but here to share my wounded feelings I 
Ye worthy Proveses, an' mony a Bailie, 
Wha in the paths o' righteousness did toil ay ; 
Ye dainty Deacons, an' ye douce Conveeners, 
To whom our moderns are but causey-cleaners ! 
Ye godly Councils wha hae blest this town ; 
Ye godly Brethren o' the sacred gown, 
Wha meekly gie your hurdles to the smiters"; 
And (what would now be strange) je godly Writers: 
A' ye douce folk I've borne aboou the broo, 
Were ye but here, what would ye say or do I 
How would your spirits groan in deep vexation, 
lo see each melancholy alteration ; 
And agonizing, curse the time and place 
When ye begat the base, degen'rate race ! 
Nae langer Kev'rend Men, their country's glory. 
In plain braid Scots hold forth a plain braid-story • 
Nae langer thrifty Citizens, an' douce, 
Meet owre a pint, or in the Council-house ; 
But staumrel, corky-headed, srraceless Gentry, 
The herryment and ruin of the country ; 
Men, three-parts made by Tailors and by Barbers 
Wha waste you weel-hain'd gear on damn'd new Briffs and 

Harbours I ® 



TME BRIGS OF ATR 4\ 

NEW BRIG. 

Kow hand you there ! faith ye've said enough. 
And muckle mair than ye can niak to through : 
As for your Priesthood, I i-hall say but Httle, 
Corbies and Clergy arc a shot right kittle : 
But, under favour o' your langer beard, 
Abuse o' Magistrates might weel be spar'd : 
To liken them to your auld-warld squad, 
I must needs say, comparisons are odd. 
In Ayr, Wag-wits na? mair can have a handle 
To mouth " a Citizen,' a term o' scandal : 
Nae mair the Council waddles down the street. 
In all the pomp of ignorant conceit ; 
Men wha grew wise priggiu owre hops an raisins. 
Or gather'd lib'ral views in bonds and seisins. 
If haply Knowledge, on a random tramp. 
Had shor'd them Vvi' a glimmer of his lamp. 
And would to Common-sense for once betray'd them. 
Plain, dull Stupidity stept kindly in to aid them. 

What farther clishmaclaver might been said, 
What bloody wars, if Sprites had blood to shed. 
No man can tell ; but all before their sight 
A fairy train appear'd in order bright : 
Adown the glittering stream they featly danc'd ; 
Bright to the moon their various dresses glanc'd : 
They footed o'er the wat'ry glass so neat. 
The infant ice scarce bent beneath their feet : 
While arts of Minstrelsy among them rung, 
And soul-ennobling Bards heroic ditties sung. 
O had M'Lauchlan, thairm-inspiring sage, 
Been there to heur this heavenly band engage. 
When thro' his dear strathspeys they bore with Highland rage. 
Or when they struck old Scotia's melting airs, 
The lover's raptur'd joys or bleeding cares ; 
How would his Highland lug been nobler fir'd. 
And ev'n his matchless hand with finer touch inspir'd 1 
No guess could tell what instrument appear'd. 
But all the soul of Music's self was heard ; 
Harmonious concert rung in every part, 
While simple melody pour'd moving on the heart. 

The Genius of the Stream in front appears, 
A venerable Cliief , advanc'd in years ; 
His hoary head with water-lilies crown'd. 
His manly leg with garter tangle bound. 
Kext came the loveliest pair in all the ring. 
Sweet Female Beauty hand in hand with Spring ; 
Then, crown'd with flow'ry hay, came Rural Joy, 
And Summer with his fervid-beaming eye : 
All-cheering Plenty, with her flowing horn, 
Led yollow Autumn wreath 'd with nodding cofL , 
Then Winter's time-bleach'd locks did hoarv show, 
Bj Hospitality with cloudless brow ; * . 



4^ 



THE ORDINATIOU. 



Next follow'd Courage with his martial stride. 

From where the Feal wild-^voody coverts hide ; 

Benevolence, with mild, benignant air, 

A fenuije form, came from the tow'rs of Stair : 

Learning and Wortli in equal measures trode 

From simple Catrine, their long-lov'd abode : 

Last, white-rob'd Peace, crowned with a hazel wreath. 

To rustic Agriculture did bequeath 

The broken, iron instruments of death : 

At sight of whom our Sprites forgat their kindling wrath. 



THE ORDINATION. 

For sense, they little owe to frugal Heav'n— 
To please the mob, they hide the littk giv'n. 



Kilmarnock Wabsters, fidge and 
claw, 

An' pour your creeshie nations ; 
An' ye wha "leather rax an' draw. 

Of a' denominations ; 
Swiii to the Laigli Kirk, ane an' a'. 

An there tak up your stations ; 
Then alf to Begbie's in a raw, 

An' pour divine libations 

For joy this day. 

Curst Common-sense, that imp o' hell, 

Cam in wi' Maggie Lauder ; 
But Olipliant oft made her yell. 

An' Russel sair misca'd her ; 
This day M'Kinhiy take the flail, 

An' he's the boy will blaud her ! 
He'll clap a shangan on her ail. 

An' set the bairns to daud her 

Wi' dirt this day. 

Hak haste an' turn King David owre. 

An' lilt wi' holy clangor ; 
O' double verse come gie us four, 

An' skirl up the Bangor : 
This day the Kirk kicks up a stoure, 

Nae mair the knaves shall wrang 
her 
For Heresy is in her pow'r, 

And gloriously she'll w^hang her 
Wi' pith this day. 

Come, let a proper text be read. 
An' touch it off wi' vigour. 

How graceless Ham leugh at his Dad, 
Which made Canaan a niger ; 



Or Phineas drove the murdering blade, 
Wi' whore-abhorring rigour ; 

Or Zipporah, the scauklin jad, 
Was like a bluidy tiger 

r th' Inn that day. 

There, try his mettle on the creed, 

And bind him down wi' caution. 
That Stipend is a carnal weed. 

He takes but for the fashion ; 
An' gie him o'er the flock, to feea, 

And punish each transgression ; 
Especial, rams that cross the bvced, 

Gie them sufficient threshin, 

Spare them nae day. 

Now auld Kilmarnock, cock thy tail. 

An' toss thy horns fu' canty ; 
Nae mair thou'lt rowte out-owre the 
dale. 

Because thy pasture's scanty ; 
For lapfu's large o' gospel kail 

Shall fill thy crib in plenty. 
An' runts o' grace the pick an' wale. 

No gi'en by way o' dainty, 
But ilka day. 

Nae mair by Babel streams we'll weep, 

To think upon our Zion : 
And hing our fiddles up to sleep, 

Like baby-clouts a-dryin :^ 
Come, screw the pegs wi' tunefu* 
cheep. 

And o'er the thairms be tryin •, 
Oh rare 1 to see our elbucks wheep, 

And a' like lamb-tails flyin 

Fu' fast this day ! 



TSE CAim 



43 



Lang, Patronage, wi' rod o' airn, 

Has slior d the Kirk's undoin, 
As latei}^ Feuwick, suir forfairu. 

Has proven to his ruin ; 
Our Patron, honest man ! Glcncairn, 

He saw mischief was brewiu ; 
And like a godly, elect bairn, 

He's wal'd us out a true ane, 

And sound this day. 

Now Robinson harangue nae mair, 

But steek your gab lor ever : 
Or try the wicked town of Ayr, 

For there they'll think you clever; 
Or, nae reliection on your lear, 

Ye may commence a Shaver ; 
Or to the Netiierton repair, 

And turn a Carpet-weaver 

Aff-hand this day. 

iMutrie and you were just a match. 

We never had sic twa drones : 
Auld Hornie did the Laigh Kirk 
watch. 

Just like a winkin baudrons : 
And ay he catch'd the tither wretch, 

To fry them in his caudrons ; 
But now his Honour maun detach, 

Wi' a' his brimstone squadrons, 
Fast, fast this day. 

See, see auld Orthodoxy's faes 
She's swingein thro' the city ; 

Hark, how the nine-tail'd cat she plays 1 
I vow it's unco pretty 1 



There, Ijearniug, with his Greekisb 
face. 
Grunts out sonie Latin ditty ; 
And Common-sense is gaun, she says, 
To mak to Jamie Beattie 

Her plaint this d&y. 

But there's Morality hirasel, 

Embracing all opinions ; 
Hear, how he gies the tither yell, 

Between his twa companions ; 
See, how she peels the skin an' fell. 

As ane were peelin onions ! 
No there, they're packed aff to hell. 

And banish'd our dominions. 

Henceforth this day. 

O happy day ! rejoice, rejoice ! 

Come bouse about the porter 1 
Morality's demure decoys 

Shall here nae "mair find quarter : 
M'Kinlay, Russel are the boys 

That heresy can torture ; 
Th.ey^l gie her ou a rape a hoyse. 

And cowe her measure shorter 

By th' head some daj 

Come, bring the tither mutchkin in. 

And here's, for a conclusion. 
To every New Light mother's son, 

From this time forth, Confusion : 
If mair they deave us wi' their din. 

Or Patronage intrusion, 
We'll light a spunk, and, ev'ry skin. 

We'll riri them aff in fusion 

Like oil, some day. 



THE CALF. 

TO THE lt:iV. MK. JAMEW STEVENS, ON HIS TEXT, MALACHI, CH. IT. VEB. 2. 

•' And ye shall go forth, and grow up as calves of the stall." 



Right, Sir ! your text I'll prove it 
true, 

Tho' Heretics may laugh ; 
For instance, there's yoursel just now, 

God knows, an unco Calf 1 

And should some Patron be so kind. 

As bless you wi' a kirk, 
I doubt na. Sir, but then we'll find, 

Ye're still as great a Stirk. 



But, if the Lover's raptur'd Lour 

Shall ever be your lot. 
Forbid it, ev'ry lieavenly Power, 

You e'er should be a Stot ! 

Tiio', when some kind, connubial 
Dear, 

Your but-and-ben adorns. 
The like has been that you may wear 

A loble head of liorns. 



44 



ADDRESS TO THE DEIL. 



And, in your lug, most reverend And when ye're number'd wi' the 

James, dead, 

To hear you roar and rowte. Below a grassy hillock, 

Few men o' sense will doubt your Wi' justice they may mark your 

claims head — 

To rank among the Nowte. " Here lies a famous BullocK !" 



ADDRESS TO THE DEIL. 

O Prince ! O Chief of many throned Pow'rs, 
That led th' embattled Seraphim to war ^Milton. 



O THOU ! whatever title suit thee, 
Auld Hornie, Satan, Nick, or Clootie, 
Wha in yon cavern grim an' sootie, 

Clos'd under hatches, 
Spairges about the brunstane cootie, 

To scaud poor wretches J 

Hear me, auld Hangie, for a wee. 
An' let poor damned bodies be ; 
I'm sure sma' pleasure it can gie, 

Ev'n to a deil. 
To skelp an' scaud poor dogs like me. 

An' hear us squeel 1 

Great is thy pow'r, an' great thy fame; 
Far keud and noted is thy name ; 
An' tho' yon lowiu' heugh's thy hame. 

Thou travels far ; 
An' faith ! thou's neither lag nor lame, 

Nor blate nor scaur. 

"Whyles, ranging like a roarin lion. 
For prey, a' holes an' corners tryin ; 
Whyles on tlie strong-wiug'd Tempest 
flyin, 

Tirlin the kirks ; 
"Whyles in the human bosom pryin. 

Unseen thou lurks. 

il've heard my reverend Grannie say, 
in lanely glens ye like to stray ; 
Or where auld, ruin'd castles, gray, 

Nod to the moon, 
Ye fright the nightly wand'rer's way, 

Wi' eldritch croon. 

When twilight did my Grannie sum- 
mon, 

To say her pray'rs, douce, honest 
woman ! 

Aft yont the dyke she's heard you 
bummin, 

Wi' eerie drone ; 



Or, rustl:^, thro' the boortrees comin, 
Wi' heavy groan. 

Ae dreary, windy, winter night, 
The stars shot down wi' sklentin 

* light, 
Wi' you, mysel, I gat a fright. 
Ayont the lough ; 
Ye like a rash-buss, stood in sight, 
Wi' waving sugh. 

The cudgel in my nieve did shake. 
Each bristled hair stood like a stake, 
When wi' an eldritch, stoor quaick^ 
quaick, 

Amang the springs, 
Awa ye squattered like a drake. 

On whistling wings, 

Let warlocks grim, an' wither'd haga. 
Tell how, wi' you on ragweed nags, 
They .skin the muirs, an' dizzy crags, 

Wi' wicked speed ; 
And in kirk-yards renews their leagues, 

Owre howkit dead. 

Thence, contra wives, wi' toil an* 

pain, 
May plunge an' plunge the kirn in 

vain ; 
For, oh ! the yellow treasure's taen 

By witching skill ; 
An' dawtit, twal-pint Hawkie's gaea 
As yell's the Bill. 

Thence, mystic knots mak great abuse. 
On young Guidmen, fond, keen, an' 

crouse ; 
When the best wark-lume i' the 

By cantrip wit, 
Is instant made no worth a louse. 

Just at the bit 



THE DEATH AND DTINQ WORDS OF POOR MAILIE. 45 



When tho\ves dissolve the smawy 

lioord, 
An' float tlie jinglin icy-boord, 
Then, AVater kelpies haunt the foord, 

By your direction, 
An' nighted Travelers are allur'd 

To their destruction. 

An' aft your moss-traversing Spuukies 
Decoy the wight that late an' drunk is: 
Tue bleezin, curst, mischievous mou 
kies 

Delude his eyes, 
Till in some miry slough he sunk is, 
Ne'er mair to rise. 

"When Masons' mystic word an' grip, 
In storms an' tempests raise you up, 
Some cock or cat your rage maun 
stop, 

Or, strange to tell ! 
The youngest Brother ye wad whip 

All: straught to hell. 

Lang syne, in Eden's bonie yard, 
When youthf u' lovers lirst were pair'd. 
An' all the soul of love Ihey shar'd, 

The rapti.r'd hour. 
Sweet on the fragrant, fiow'ry iwaird. 

In shady bow'r : 

Then you, ye auld snick-dviwing 

dog ! 
Ye caiue to Paradise incog. 
An' play'd on man a cursed bro^jc, 

(Black be you fa !) 
An' gied the infant warld a shog, 
Maist ruin'd a'. 



D'ye mind that day, when in a bizz, 
Wi' reckit duds, an' reestit gizz. 
Ye did present your smoutie phiz, 

'Mang better folk. 
An' sklented on the man of Uz 

Your spiteful joke ! 

An' how ye gat him i' your thrall. 
An' brake him out o' house and hall', 
While scabs an' blotches did him gall, 

Wi' bitter claw. 
An' lows'd his ill-tongued wicked 
Scawl, 

Was warst ava ? 

But a' your doings to rehearse. 
Your wi]y snares an' fetchin tierce. 
Sin' that day Michael did you pierce, 

Down to this time, 
Wad ding a' Lallan tongue, or Erse, 

In prose or rhyme. 

An' now, auld Cloots, I ken ye'rs 

thinkin, 
A certain Bardie's rantin, drinkin. 
Some luckless hour v/ill send him 
linkin. 

To your black pit ; 
But, faith ! he'll turn a corner jinkin. 
An' cheat you yet. 

But, fare you weel, auld Nickie-ben \ 
O wad ye tak a thought an' men' 1 
Ye aiblins might— I dinna ken — 

Still liae a stake — 
I'm wae to think upo' yon den, 

Ev'u for your sake I 



THE DEATH AND DYING WORDS OF POOR MAILIE, 
THE AUTHOR'S ONLY PET Y^OWE. 



AN UNCO MOURNFU' TALE. 



' As Mailie, an' her lambs thegither. 
Was ae day nibbling on the tether, 
I Upon her cloot she coost a hitch, 
I An' owre she warsl'd in the ditch ; 
I There, groaning, dying, she did lie, 
, When Hughoc he cam doytin by. 
I Wi' glowrin een, an' lifted ban's, 
I Poor Hughoc like a statue §tan'§ ; 



He saw her days were near han^ 

ended, 
But, waes my heart ! he could na 

mend it ! 
He gaped wide, but nnething spak. 
At length poor Mailie silence brak. 
" O thou, whase lamentable face 
Appears to mourn my woefu' case I 



46 



POOR MAILlE'8 ELEGY, 



My dying words attentive hear, 
An' bear them to my Master dear. 

" Tell him, if e'er again he keep 
As muckle gear as buy a sheep, 
O, bid him never tie them mair 
Wi' wicked strings o' hemp or hair ! 
But ca' them out to park or hill, 
An' let them wander at their will ; 
So may his flock increase, an' grow 
To scores o' lambs, an' packs o' woo' ! 

" Tell him, he was a Master kin'. 
An' ny was guid to me an' mine; 
An' now my dying charge I gie him, 
My helpless lambs, I trust them wi' 
him. 

"O, bid him save their harmless 
lives, 
Frae dogs, an' tods, an' butchers' 

knives ! 
But gie them guid cow-milk their fill. 
Till they be tit to fend Ihemsel: 
An' tent them duly, e'en an' morn. 
Wi' teats o' hay an' ripps o' corn. 

" An' may they never learn the gaets 
Of ither vile wanrestfu' pets ! 
To slink thro' slaps, an' reave an''- steal, 
M stacks o' pease, or stocks o' kail. 
l'9 may they, like their great Forbears, 
I'or monie a year come thro' the 

sheers; 
So wives will gie them bits o' bread, 



An' bairns greet for them when they're 

dead. 
"My poor toop-lamb, my son am* 

heir, 
O, bid him breed him up wi' care i 
An', if he live to be a beast. 
To pit some bavins in his breast ! 
An' warn him, what I winna name, 
To stay content wi' yowes at hame ; 
An' no to rin an' wear his cloots. 
Like ither menseless, graceless brutes 

" An' niest my yowie, silly thing, 
Gude keep thee frae a tether string I 
O, may thou ne'er forgather up 
Wi' ony blastit, moorland toop ; 
But ay keep mind to moop an' mell, 
Wi' sheep o' credit like thysel ! 

" And now, my bairns, wi' my last 

breath 
I lea'e my blessin wi' you baith : 
An' when you think upo'your Mither. 
Mind to be kind to ane anither. 

"Now, honest Hughoc, dinna fail. 
To tell my master a' my tale ; 
An' bid him burn this cursed tether, 
An' for thy pains, thou'se get my 

blether." 

This said, poor Mailie turn'd her 
head. 
An' clos'd her een amang the dead I 



POOR MAILIE'S ELEGY. 



Lament in rhyme, lament in prose, 
Wi' saut tears trickling down your 

nose ; 
Our Bardie's fate is at a close. 

Past a' remead ; 
The last, sad cape-stane of his woes ; 

Poor Mailie's dead I 

It's no the loss o' warl's gear, 
'That could sae bitter draw the tear. 
Or mak our Bardie, dowie, wear 

Tlie mourning weed : 
He's lost a friend and neebor dear. 

In Mailie dead. 

Thro' a' the toun she trotted by him ; 
A lang half-mile she could descry him; 
Wi' kindly bleat, when she did spy 
him, 

§he tm wi' spee(i ; 



A friend mair fajthfu' ne'er cam nigh 
him, 

Than Mailie dead. 

I wat she was a sheep o' sense, 
An' could behave hersel wi' mense ; 
I'll say't, she never biak a fence. 

Thro' thievish greed. 
Our Bardie, lanely, keeps the spence 

Sin' Mailie's dead. 

Or, if he wanders up the howe. 
Her living image in her yowe 
Comes bleating to him, owre the 
knowe, 

For bits o' bread ; 
An' down the briny pearls rowe 



TO JAMES SMITH. 



4? 



She was nae get o' moorland tips, 
Wi tawted ket, an' hairy hips ; 
For her forbears were brought in 
ships, 

Frae yont the Tweed ; 
A. bonier fleesh ne'jr cross'd the dips 

Tbj,n Mailie's dead. 

Wae worth the man wha first did 

shape 
That vile, waachancie thing — a rape I 



It maks guid fellows grin an' gape, 
Wi' cliokin dread ; 

An' Robin's bonnet wave wi' crape. 
For Mailie dead. 

O, a' ye Bards on bonie Doon ! 

An' wha on Ayr your chanters tune ! 

Come, join the melancholious croon 

O' Robin's reed ! 
His heart will never get aboon ! 

His Mailie's dead I 



owe thee much. 

Dear Smith, the sleeest, paukie thief, 
That e'er attempted stealth or rief, 
Ye surely hae some warlock-breef 

Owre human hearts; 
"For ne'er a bosorn yet was prief 

Against your arts. 

For me, I swear by sun an* moon. 
And ev'ry star that blinks aboon, 
Ve've cost me twenty pair o' shoon 

Just gaun to see you ; 
And ev'ry ither pair that's done, 

Mair taen I'm wi' youc 

That auld, capricious carlin, Nati/re, 
I To mak amends for scrimpit stature, 
I She's turn'd you aff , a human creature 
1 On her first plan, 

I And in her freaks, on ev'ry feature, 
; She's wrote, " The Man.' 

{ Just now I've taen the fit o' rhyme, 
]\Iy barmie noddle's working prime, 
My fancie yerkit up sublime 

Wi' hasty summon : 
Hae ye a leisure-moment's time 

To hear what's comin ? 

Some rhyme, a neebor's name to lash'; 
Some rhyme (vain thought !) for 

uecdfu' cash ; 
Some rhyme to court the contra clpsli, 

An' raise a din ; 
For me, an aim I never fash; 

I rhyi\T£ for fun. 



TO JAMES SMITH. 

Friendship I mysteriou? cement of the eonl f 
Sweet'ner of Life, and solder of Society I 
I owe thee much. Blair. 



'Vho, star that rules my luckless lot. 

I'as fated me the russet coat, 

An' damm'd my fortune to the groat 

But, in requit, 
B is blest me with a random shot 

O' countra wit,, 

li^in while my notion's taen a sklent, 
Tc try my fate in guid, black prent ; 
B\it still the mair I'm that way bent, 

Something cries, " Iloolie 
I rrl you, honest man, tak tent ' 

Ye'll shaw your folly. 

I'here's ither poets, much your betters. 
Far seen in Greek, deep men o' letters 
Hae thought they had ensured tUeii 
debtors, 

A' future ages ; 
Now moths deform in shapeless tattersi 

Their unknown pages." 

Then farewell hopes o' laurel boughs,, 
To garland my poetic brows ! 
Henceforth I'll rove where hn^y 
ploughs 

Are whistling thrang, 
An' teach the lanely heights an' howes 

My rustic sang. 

I'll wander on, wi' tentless heed 
How never-halting moments speed, 
Till fate shall snap the brittle thread ? 

Then, ail unknown, 
f7< I?f "iji-. w"'th th' inglorious dea^t 

Y^XSP*^' 9-'^^ gone I 



48 



TO JAMES SMITH. 



But why o' Death begin a tale ? 
Just now we're living sound an' hale ; 
Then top and maintop crowd th3 
sail, 

' Heave Care o'er side ! 
And large, before Enjoyment's gale, 
Let's tak the tide. 

riiis life, sae far's I understand. 

Is a' enclianted fairy-land, 

Where pleasure is the magic wand. 

That, wielded right, 
Maks hours like minutes, hand in 
hand, 

Dance by fu' light. 

The magic wand then let us wield •. 
For, ance that five-an'-forty's speel'd. 
See, crazy, weary, joyless JEild, 

Wi' wrinki'd face, 
Comes hoistin, hirpliu owre the field, 

Wi' creepin pace. 

When ance life's day draws near the 

gloamin. 
Then f areweel vacant careless roamirr : 
An' f areweel cheerf u' t;i ukards f oamin. 

An' social noise ; 
An' fareweel dear deluding woman. 

The joy of joys ! 

O life ! how pleasant in thy morning, 
Young Fancy's rays the hills adorning ' 
l!old-pausing Caution's lesson sconv 
ing, 

Wc frisk awa}^ 
Like schoolboys, at th' expected warn- 
ing, 

To joy and play. 

We wander there, we wander here. 
We eye the rose upon the brier, 
Unmindful that the tliorn is near, 

Among the leaves ; 
And tlio' the puny wound appear, 

Short while it grieves. 

Some, lucky, find a flow'ry spot. 
For which they never toil'd nor swat ; 
They drink the sweet and eat the fat, 

But care or pain ; 
And, haply, eye the barren hut 

With high disdain. 

A^'ith steady aim, some Fortune chase; 
Keen hope does ev'ry sinew brace ; 



Thro' fair, thro' foul, they urge ths 
race. 

And seize the prey ; 
Then canie, in some cozie place. 
They close the day. 

A^nd others, like your humble servan', 
Poor wights ! uae rules nor roads ob- 

servin,. 
To right or left, eternal swcrvin, 

Tliey zig-zag on ; 
Till curst with age, obscure an' starvin, 

The}^ aften groan. 

Alas I what bitter toil an' straining — 
But truce wi' peevish, poor complain- 
ing ! 
Is Fortune's fickle Luna waning ? 

E'en let her gang ! 
Beneath what liglit she has remaining, 

Let's sing our sang. 

My pen I here fling to the door. 
And kneel, " Ye Pow'rs ! " and wavir 

implore, 
*' Tho' I should wander Terra o'er. 

In all her climes. 
Grant me but this, I ask no more. 

Ay rowth o' rhymes. 

' Gie dreepiug roasts to countra Lairds, 
Till icicles hing frae their beards ; 
Gie fine braw claes to fine Life-guards, 

And Maids of Honour ; 
And yill an' whisky gie to Cairds, 

Until they sconner. 

'■' A Title, Dempster merits it ; 

A Garter gie to Willie Pitt ; 

Gie Wealth to same be-ledger'd Tit, 

In cent per cent ; 
But gie me real, sterling AVit, 

And I'm content. 

" While Ye are pleased -to keep me 

hale, 
I'll sit down o'er my scanty meal, 
Be't water-brose, or muslin kail, 

W'i' cheerf u' face. 
As lang's the Muses dinna fail 

To say the grace." 

An anxious e'e I never throws 
Behint my lug, or by my nose ; 
I jouk beneath Misfortune's blows 

As weel's I may ; 
Sworn foe to Sorrow, Care, and Prose, 

I rhyme away. 



a DREAM. 



49 



ye douce folk , that live t)y rule, 

Grave, tideless-blooded.calin, and cool, 
Compar'd wl' you — O fool ! fool ! fool ! 

HoV much unlike ! 
YowY hearts are just a standing pool. 

Your lives, a dyke ! 

Nae hair-brain'd sentimental traces, 
In your unletter'd, nameless faces ! 
In arioso trills and graces 

Ye never stray. 
But gravissimo, solemn basses 

Ye hum away. 



Ye are sae grave, nae doubt ye're wise i 

Nae ferly tho' ye do despise 

The hairuniHecairum, ram-stam boys, 

The rattlin squad : 
I see you upward cast your eyes — 

Ye ken the road. — 

Whilst I — but I shall baud me there— 
Wi' you I'll scarce gang ony where- 
Then, Jamie, I shall say nae mair,- 

But quat my sang, 
Content with You to make a pair, 

Whare'er I gang. 



A DREAM. 



Thoughts, words, and deeds, the Statute blames with reason ; 
But surely Dreams were ne'er indicted Treason. 

[On reading, in the public papers, the Laureate's Ode, with the other parade of June 4, 1786, 
the author was no sooner dropt asleep, than he imagined himself transported to the Birth-daj 
I^evee ; and in his dreaming fancy, made the following Address.] 



GuiD-MoRNiN to your Majesty ! 

May heaven augment your blisses. 
On ev'ry new birth-day ye see ; 

A humble Bardie wishes ! 
My Bardship here, at your Levee, 

On sic a day as this is, 
Is sure an uncouth sight to see, 

Amaug thae Birth-day dresses 
Sae fine this day. 

I see ye're complimented tlirang, 

By mony a lord an' lady ; 
" God save the King !" 's a cuckoo 
sang 

That's unco easy said ay ; 
The Poets, too, a venal gang, 

Wi' rhymes weel-turn'd and ready. 
Wad gar you trow ye ne'er do wrang, 

But ay unerring steady. 
On sic a day. 

For me ! before a Monarch's face, 

Ev'n tJiere I winna flatter ; 
For neither pension, post, nor place, 

Am I your humble debtor : 
So, nae reflection on Your Grace, 

Your Kingship to bespatter ; 
1 here's monie waur been o' the Race, 

And aiblins ane been better 

TJtaa You 1^ day. 



'Tis very true, my sovereign King, 

My skill may weel be doubted : 
But Facts are cheels that winna ding. 

An' downa be disputed : 
Your Royal nest, beneath your wing, 

Is e'en right reft an' clouted. 
And now the third part of the string, 

An' less, will gang about it 
Than did ae day. 

Far be't frae me that I aspire 

To blame your legislation. 
Or say, ye wisdom want, or fire. 

To rule this mighty nation ; 
But, faith ! I muckle doubt, my Sire, 

Ye've trusted Ministration 
To chaps, wha, in a barn or byre. 

Wad better fill'd their station 

Than courts yon day. 

And now 3-e've gien auld Britain peace, 

Her broken shins to plaister ; 
Your sair taxation does her fleece 

Till she has scarce a tester ; 
For me, thank God, my life's a lease 

Nae bargain wearing faster. 
Or, faith ! I fear that with the geese, 

J shortly boost to pasture 

V thje craft sojpae daj. 



50 



ThjU vision. 



I'm no mistrusting Willie Pitt, 

When taxes he enlarges, 
(An' Will's a true guid fallow's get, 

A name not envy spairges,) 
That he intends to pa}' your debt, 

An' lessen a' your eluirges ; 
But, God's sake ! let nae saving-fit 

Abridge your bonie barges 

An' boats this day. 

Adieu, my Liege ! may freedom geek 
Beneath your high protection ; 

An' may Ye rax Corruption's neck. 
And gie her for dissection ! 

But since I'm here, I'll no neglect. 
In loyal, true aiiection, 

To pay your Queen, v^'ith due respect. 

My fealty an' subjection 

This great Birth-day. 

Hail, Majesty most Excellent ! 

While nobles strive to please Ye, 
Will ye accept a compliment 

A simple Poet gies Ye ? 
Thae bonny bairntime Ileav'n has lent. 

Still higher may they heeze Ye 
In bliss, till Fate some' day is sent. 

For ever to release Ye 

Frae care that day. 

For you, young Potentate o' Wales, 

I tell your Highness fairly, 
Down Pleasure's stream, wi' swelling 
sails 

I'm tauld ye're driving rarely ; 
But some day ye may gnaw your nails, 

An' curse your folly sairly, 
'.«..aat ere ye brak Diana's pales. 

Or rattl'd dice wi' Charlie, 
By night or day. 

Yet aft a ragged cowte's been known 

To mak a noble aiver ; 
Bae, ye may doucely fill a Throne, 

For a' their clish-ma-claver ; 



There, Him at Agincourt wha shone. 

Few better were or braver •. 
And yet, wi' funny queer Sir John, 

He was an unco shaver 

For monie a day. 

For you, right rev'rend Osnaburg, 
Name sets the lawn-sleeve sweeter. 

Altho' a ribban at your lug- 
Wad been a dress completer : 

As ye disown yon paughty dog 
That bears the Keys of Peter, 

Then, swith ! an' get a wife to hug. 
Or, troth ! ye'll stain the Mitre 
Some luckless day. 

Young, royal Tarry Breeks, I learn, 

Ye've lately come athwart her ; 
A glorious galley, stem and stern, 

Weel rigg'd for Venus' barter ; 
But first hang out, that she'll discern 

Your hymeneal charter. 
Then heave aboard your grapple airn. 

An', large upon her quarter. 
Come full that day. 

Ye, lastly, bonie blossoms a', 

Ye royal Lasses dainty, 
Heav'n mak jou guid as weel as br:iw, 

An' gie you lads a-plenty : 
But sneer na British boys awa', 

Foi Kings are unco scant ay : 
An' German Gentles are but sma', 

They're better just than Avant ay 
On ouie day. 

God bless you a' ! consider now 

Ye're unco muckle dautet ; 
T'~xl, e'er the course o' life be th.'oughj 

It may be bitter sautet : 
An' I hae seen their coggie fou, 

That yet hae tarrow't at it ; 
But or the day was done, I trow, 

The laggen they hae clautet 
Fu' clean that day. 



THE VISION. 

DUAN FIRST. 



The sun had clos'd the winter day. 
The Curlers quat their i oarin play, 
An' hunger'd Maukiu taen her way 

To kail-yards green, 
While faithless suaws ilk step betray 

Whare she has been. 



The thresher's weary flingin-tree 
The lee-lang day had tired me ; 
And whan the day had clos'd his e' 

Far i' tlie west, 
Ben 1' the Spence, right pensivelie, 

I gaed to rest. 



TEE VISION. 



51 



There, lanely, by the ingle-cheek, 
I sat and ey'd the spewing reek, 
That hll'd, wi' hoasi-provoking smeek, 

The aiild, cla}^ higgin ; 
An' heard the restless rattous squeak 

About the riggin. 

AH in this mottle, misty clime, 
I backward mus'd on wasted time, 
Kow I had spent my youthful prime. 

An' done nae-thing. 
But stringin blethers up in rhyme. 

For fools to sing. 

Had I to guid advice but harkit, 
I might, by this, hae led a market, 
Or strutted in a bank, and clarkit 

My cash-account : 
While here, half-mad, half-fed, half- 
sarkit. 

Is a' th' amount. 

I started, mutt'ring, blockhead ! coof ! 
And heav'd on high my waukit loof. 
To swear by a' yon starry roof. 

Or some rash aith. 
That I, henceforth, w^ould be rhyme- 
proof 

Tin my last breath — 

When click ! the string the snick did 

draw ; 
And jee ! the door gaed to the wa' ; 
And by my ingle-lowe I saw. 

Now bleezin bright, 
A tight, outlandish Hizzie, braw^ 

Come full in sight. 

Ye need na doubt, I held my whisht ; 
The infant aith, half-form'd, w^as 

crusht ; 
I glowr'd as eerie's I'd been dusht 

In some wild glen ; 
When sweet, like modest worth, she 
blusht. 

And stepped ben. 

Green, slender, leaf-clad holly-boughs 
Were twisted, gracefu', round her 
brows, 
I I took her for some Scottish Muse, 
I By that same token ; 

I And come to stop these reckless vows, 
I Would soon been broken. 



A " hair-brain d, sentimental trace,' 
Was strongly marked in her face ; 
A wildly-witty, rustic grace 

Shone full uix)n her ; 
Her eye, ev'n turn'd on empty space, 
Beam'd keen with Honour, 

Down flow'd her robe, a tartan sheen, 
Till half a leg v/as scrimply seen ;■ 
And such a leg 1 my bouie Jean 

Could only peer it ; 
Sae straught, sae taper, tight, and 
clean, 

Nane else came near it. 

Her mantle large, of greenish hue. 
My gazing w^onder chiefly drew ; 
Deep lights and shades, bold-mingling 
threw^ 

A lustre grand ; 
And seem'd, to my astonish'd view 

A well-known Land. 

Here, rivers in the sea were lost ; 
There, m.ountains to the skies wx-re 

YOSt ; 
Here, tumbling billows mark'd the 
coast 

With surging foam ; 
There, distant shone Art's lofty boast, 
The lordly dome. 

Here, Doon pour'd down his far 

fetch'd floods ; 
There, well-fed Irwine stately thuds. 
Auid hermit Ayr staw thro' his woods. 

On to the shore ; 
And many a lesser torrent scuds. 

With seeming roar. 

Low, in a sandy valley spread. 

An ancient Borough rcar'd her head r 

Still, as in Scottish story read. 

She boasts a Race, 
To ev'ry nobler virtue bred. 

And polish'd grace. 

By stately tow'r or palace fair. 

Or ruins pendent in the air. 

Bold stems of Heroes, here and there, 

I could discern ; 
Some seem'd to muse, some seem'd tfl 
dare, 

Witii feature ste^^. 



62 



TEE VISTOIV: 



My heart did glowing transport feel. 

To see a Race heroic wheel, 

A-nd brandish round tlie deep-dy'd steel 

In sturdy blows ; 
While back-recoihng seem'd to reel 

Their Suthron foes„ 

His Country's Saviour, mark him 

well ! 
Bold Richardton's heroic swell ; 
The Chief on Sark who glorious fell. 

In high command ; 
And He whom ruthless fates expel 

His native land. 

There, where a sceptr'd Pictish shade 
Stfilk'd round his ashes lowly laid, 
I mark'd a martial Race, pourtray'd 

In colours strong ; 
Bold, soldier-featur'd, undismay'd 

They strode along. 



Thro' many a wild, romantic grove, 
Near many a liermit-fancy'd cove, 
(Fit haunts for Friendship or for Lore 

In musing mood,) 
An aged Judge, I saw him rove. 

Dispensing good. 

With deep-struck reverential awe 
The learned Sire and Son 1 saw, 
To Nature's God and Nature's law 

They gave their lore : 
This, all its source and end to draw 

That, to adore. 

Brydon's brave Ward I well could spy, 
Beneath old Scotia's smiling eye ; 
Who call'd on Fame, low standing by, 

To hand him on, 
W^herc many a Patriot name on high, 

And Hero shone. 



DUAN SECOND. 



With musing-deep, astonish'd stare^ 
( view'd the heavenly-seeming Fair ; .. 
A. whisp'ring throb did witness bear. 

Of kindred sweet. 
When with an elder Sister's air 

She did me greet. 

" All hail ! my own inspired Bard I 
in me thy native muse regard ! 
Nor longer mourn thy fate is hard, 

Thus poorly low ! 
I come to give thee such reward 

As we bestow. 

" Kno^v, the great Genius of this land 
Has maay a light, aerial band. 
Who, air Leneath his high command. 

Harmoniously, 
As Arts or Arms they understand, 

Their labours ply. 

" They Scotia's Race among them 

share ; 
Some fire the Soldier on to dare ; 
Some rouse the Patriot up to bare 

Corruption's heart : 
Some teach the Bard, a darling care, 

The tuaef ui art. 



" 'Mong swelling floods of reeking 

gore. 
They, ardent, kindling spirits pour ; 
Or, 'nn'd the venal Senate s roar, 

They, sightless, stand. 
To mend the honest Patriot lore. 

And grace the hand. 

" And when the Bard, or hoary Sage, 
Charm or instruct the future age, 
They bind the wild, Poetic rage 

In energy. 
Or point the inconclusive page 

Full on the eye. 

" Hence, Fullarton, the brave and 

young ; 
Hence, Dempster's zeal-inspired 

tongue ; 
Hence, sw-eet harmonious Beattie sung 

His * Minstrel lays ' ; 
Or tore, with noble ardour stung. 
The Sceptic's bays. 

" To lower orders are assign'd 
The humbler ranks of human-kind, 
The rustic Bard, the lab'ring Hind, 

The Artisan ; 
All choose, as various they're inclin'd. 

The various ma». 



THE VISIOJT. 



63 



" Wlien yellcw waves tlie heavy grain, 
The threat'ning storm some strongly 

rein ; 
Soiiie teach to meliorate the plain 

With tillage-skill ; 
And some instruct the Shepherd-train, 

Blytlie o'er the hill. 

" Some hint the Lover's harmless wile; 
Some grace the Maiden's artless smile ; 
Some soothe the Lab'rer's weary toil. 

For humble gains, 
And make his cottage-scenes beguile 

His cares and pains. 

*' Some, bounded to a district-space, 
Explore at large Man's infant race, 
To mark the embryotic trace 

Of rustic Bard ; 
And careful note each op'ning grace, 

A guide and guard. 

'•' Of these am I — Coila my name ; 
And this district as mine I claim, 
Where once the Campbells, chiefs of 
fame, 

Held ruling pow'r ; 
I mark'd thy embryo-tuneful flame, 

Thy natal hour. 

" With future hope, I oft would gaze. 

Fond, on thy little early ways, 

Thy rudely-caroll'd, chiming phrase. 

In uncouth rhymes, 
Fir'd at the simple, artless lays 

Of other times. 



/'I saw thee seek the sounding shore, 
'Delighted with the dashing roar ; 
Or when the North his fleecy store 

Drove thro' the sky, 
I saw grim Nature's visage hoar 

Struck thy young eye. 

'* Or wheii the deep green-mantl'd 

Earth 
Warm-cherish'd ev'ry flow'ret's birth. 
And joy and music pouring forth 

In ev'ry grove, 
J saw thee eye the gen'ral mirth 

With boundless love- 



"When ripen'd fields, and azure skies, 
Cali'd forth the Reaper's rustling 

noise, 
I saw thee leave their ev'ning joys. 

And lonely stalk, 
To vent thy bosom's swelling rise 

In pensive walk. 

" When youthful Love, warm-blush- 
ing strong, 
Keen-shivering shot thy nerves along, 
Those accents, grateful to thy tongue, 

Th' adored Name, 
I taught thee how to pour in song, 

To soothe thy flame. 

" I saw thy pulse's maddening play. 
Wild send thee Pleasure's devious 

way, 
Misled by Fancy's meteor ray, * 

By Passion driven ; 
But yet the light that led astray 

Was light from Heaven. 

"I taught thy manners painting 

strains, 
The loves, the ways of simple swains, 
Till now, o'er all my wide domains 

Thy fame extends ; 
And some, the pride of Coila's plains. 
Become thy friends. 

** Thou canst not learn, nor can I show. 
To paint with Thomson's landscape- 
glow ; 
Or wake the bosom-melting throe. 
With Shenstone's art ; 
Or pour, with Gray, the moving flow 
Warm on the heart. 

" Yet, all beneath th' unrivaU'd rose. 
The lowly daisy sweetly blows ; 
Tho' large the forest's monarch throws 

His army shade, 
Yet green the juicy hawthorn grows, 

Adown the glade. 

" Then never murmur nor repine ; 
Strive in thy humble sphere to shine 
And trust me, not Potosi's mine. 

Nor King's regard. 
Can give a bliss o'ermatching thine^ 

A rustic Bard. 



64 



ADDRESS TO THE UNCO QUID. 



" To give my counsels all in one, 
Thy tuneful flame still careful fan | 
Preserve the dignity of Man, 

With 8oul erect ; 
And trust, the Universal Plan 

Will all protect. 



" And wear thou this " — she solemn 

saidp 
And bound the Holly round my head : 
The polish'd leaves, and berries red, 

Did rustling play ; 
And, like a passing thought, she fled 

In light away. 



ADDRESS TO THE UNCO GUID, OR THE RIGIDLY 

RIGHTEOUS. 

My son, these maxims make a rule, 

And lump them aye thegither ; 
The Rigid Righteous is a fool, 
The Rigid Wise anither : 
^ The cleanest corn that e'er was dight, 

May hae some pyles o' cafi in : 
So ne'er a fellow-creature slight 
For random fits o' d^ffin. 

Solomon.— Eccles. vii. 16. 



O TfE wha are sae guid yoursel, 

Sae pious and sae holy, 
Ye've nought to do but mark and tell 

Your jNeebour's fauts and folly ! 
Whase life is like a weel-gaun mill, 

Supply'd wi' store o' water, 
The heapet happer's ebbing still. 

And still the clap plays clatter. 

Ziear me, ye venerable Core, 

As counsel for poor mortals, 
That frequent pass douce Wisdom's 
door. 

For glaikit Folly's portals ; 
I, for their thoughtless, careless sakes. 

Would here propone defences. 
Their donsie tricks, their black mis- 
takes, 

Their failings and mischances, 

fe see your state wi' their's compar'd. 

And shudder at the niffer, 
But cast a moment's fair regard, 

What maks the mighty differ ; 
Discount what scant occasion gave 

That purity ye pride in, 
And (what's aft mair than a' the lave) 

Your better art o' hiding. 

Think, when your castigated pulse 

Gies now and then a wallop, 
Tv hat raging must his veins convulse, 

That still eternal gallop : 
vf i' wind and tide fair i' your tail. 

Right on 3^e scud your sea-way ; 
gut in the teeth o' baith to sail, 

^ juakes an unco leeway. 



See Social life and Glee sit down, 

All joyous and unthinking, 
Till, quite transmugrify'd, they're 
grown 

Debauchery and Drinking : 
O would they stay to calculate 

Th' eternal consequences ; 
Or your more dreaded hell to state, 

Damnation of expenses ! 

Ye high, exalted, virtuous Dames, 

Ty'd up in godly laces, 
Before you gie poor Frailty names. 

Suppose a change o' cases ; 
A dear lov'd lad, convenience snug, 

A treacherous inclination— 
But, let me whisper i' your lug, 

Ye're aiblins nae temptation. 

Then gently scan your brother JVIai' 

Still gentler sister Woman ; 
Tho' they may gang a kennin wran^. 

To step aside is human : 
One point must still be greatly dark. 

The moving ^Vhy they do it ; 
And just as lamely can ye mark. 

How far perhaps they rue it. 

Who made the heart, 'tis He alone 

Decidedlj^ can try us. 
He knows each chord its various tone. 

Each spring its various bias : 
Then at the balance let's be mute, 

We never can adjust it ; 
What's done we partly may compute, 

But know Dot what's resisted. 
I ^ 



TAM SAMSOX'8 ELEGY. 



55 



TAM SAMSOK'S ELEGY. 

An honegt man's the noblest work of God.— Pope. 



Has auld Kilmarnock seen the Deil ? 
Or great M'Kinlay thrawn his heel ? 
Or llobiusou again grown weel, 

To preach an' read ? 
" Na, waur than a' ! " cries ilka chiel, 

" Tarn Samson's dead 1 " 

iCilmarnock lang may grunt an' grane, 
An' sigh, an' sab, an' greet her lane. 
An' deed her bairns, man, wife, an' 
wean. 

In mourning weed ; 
To Death, she's dearly paid the kaue, 
Tarn Samson's dead 1 

The Brethren o' the mystic level 
]\Iay hing their head in woef u' bevel, 
"VV^hile by their nose the tears will revel. 

Like ony bead ; 
Death's gien the Lodge an unco devel. 

Tarn Samson's dead ! 

"When Winter muffles up his cloak. 
And binds the mire like a rock ; 
AVhen to the loughs the Curlers flock 

Wi' gleesome speed, 
Wha will they station at the cock. 

Tarn Samson's dead V 

He was the king o' a' the Core, 
To guard, or drav/, or wick a bore. 
Or up the rink like Jehu roar 

In time o' need ; 
But now he lags on Death's Jiog-score, 

Tam Samson's dead I 

Now safe the stately Sawmont sail. 
And Trouts bedropp'd wi' crimson hail. 
And Eels weel kend for souple tail. 

And Geds for greed, 
Since dark in T)ciiih! sfish-cvccl we wail 

Tam Samson's dead ! 

Rejoice, yc birring Paitricks a' ; 

Ye coolie 3Ioorcocks, crousely craw ; 

Ye Maukins, cock your f ud f u' braw, 

Withouten dread ; 
Your mortal Fae is now awa', 

Tam Samson's dead ! 



That woef u' morn be ever m^Mrn'd 
Saw him in shootin graith a^orn'd, 
While pointers round impatient burn'd, 

Frae couples freed ^ 
But, Och I he gaed and ne'er return'd I 

Tam Samson's dead I 

In vain auld age his body batters , 
In vain the gout his ancles fetters ; 
In vain the burns came down like 
waters, 

An acre braid ! 
Now ev'ry auld wife, greetin, clatters, 
" Tam Samson's dead I " 

Owre mony a weary hag he limpit. 
An' ay the titlier shot he thumpit, 
Till coward Death behind him jumpit 

Wi' deadly feide ; 
Now he proclaims, wi' tout o' trum 
pet, 

Tam Samson's dead I 

When at his heart he felt the dagger. 
He reel'd his wonted bottle-swagger. 
But yet he drew the mortal trigger 

Wi' weel-aim'd heed ; 
" Lord, five I '" he cry'd, an' owre did 
stagger; 

Tam Samson's dead 1 

Ilk hoary hunter mourn'd a brither ; 
Ilk sportsman youth bemoan'd a 

father ; 
Yon auld gray stane, smang the 
heather, 

Marks out his head, 
Whare Burns has wrote, in riiyming 
blether, 

" Tam Samson's dead 1" 

There, low he lies, in lasting rest ; 
Perhaps upon his mould'ring breast 
Some j^pitefu' muirfowl bigs her nest, 

To hatch and breed ; 
Alas ! nae mair lie'll them molest ! 

Tam Samson's dead 1 



56 



HALLOWBEH. 



When August winds the heather 

wave, 
A.nd sportsmen wander by yon grave. 
Three vollies let his mem'ry crave 

O' pouther an' lead, 
Till Echo answer frae lier cave, 

Tarn Samson's dead ! 



jMeav'n rest his saul, whare'er he he I 
Is til' v/ish o' mony mae tlian me : 
He had twa faults, or maybe three. 

Yet what remead ? 
Ae social, honest man want we : 

Tarn Samson's dead I 



THE EPITAPH. 

Tam Samson's weel-worn clay hcTG 
hes. 

Ye canting zealots, spare him 1 
If honest worth in heaven rise, 

Ye'll mend or ye win near him. 

PER contra. 
Go, Fame, an' canter like a filly 
Thro' a' the streets an' neuks o' Killia 
Te'll ev'ry social, honest billie 

To cease his grievin. 
For yet, unskaith'd by Death's gleg 
guUie, 

Tam Samson's livin \ 



HALLOWEEK* 

[The f ollowInj» Poem will by many readers be well enough understood ; but for the pake o* 
those who are unacquainted with the manners and traditions of the country where the ecen'=" 
is cast, notts are added to give gome account of the principal charms and spells of that nigh 
80 big with prophecy to the peasantrv in the west of Scotland- '1 he passion of prying intt 
futurity makes a striking part of the liistory of human nature, in its rude state, in all ages and 
nations ; and it may be some entertainment to a philosophic mind if any euch should hoE'iir 
the Author witli a perusal, to see the remains of it, among the more unenlightened in oui 
own. li. B.] 

Yes I let the rich deride, the proud disdain, 
The fimple pleasures of the lowly train ; 
To me more dear, congenial tO my heart, 
One native charm, than all the glofs of art. 

Goldsmith. 



Some merir, friendly, countra folks. 

Together 4id convene. 
To burn their nits, an' pou tbeir 
stocks, 
An' hand their Halloween 

Fu' blythe that night. 

The lasses feat, ai' cleanly neat, 

Mair braw than wher\ they're fine ; 
Their faces blythe, fu' sweetly kythe, 

Hearts leal, an' warm an' kin : 
The lads sae trig, wi' wooer-babs, 

Weel knotted on their garten, 
Some unco blate, an' some wi' gabs. 

Gar lasse's hearts gang startin 

Whyles fast at night. 

* Isthoughttob^ anight when witches, devils and other mischief-making beings are ah 
abroad on their baneful midnight errands ; particularly those aerial people, the fairies, are said 

"VSSdMe!?!^^^^^ the ancient .eat of the 

^T A no?e^civer,fne?rColean-ho^s.^ called the Cove of Colean ; which as well as Cassilis 
Downaiis, is famed in country story for being a favorite haiuit ot fairies^ R ^A.y.^.^c.* nf hi- 
§ The famous family of that name, the ancestors of Kobert, the great deliverer of hu 
country, were Earls of Carriclc E. B, 



Upon that night, when fairies light 
On Cassilis Downans f dance. 

Or owre the lays, in splendid blaze. 

On sprightly coursers prance ; 

Or for Colean the rout is ta'en. 
Beneath the moon's pale beams ; 

There, up the Cove,:}: to stray an* 
rove 
Amaiig the rocks and streams 
* To sport that night ; 

Amang the bonie, winding banks. 
Where Doon rins, wimplin, clear. 

Where Bruce § ance rul'd the martial 

I ranks, 

An' shook his Cairick spear. 



BALLOWEBHr. 



67 



Then, first an' foremost, thro' the kail. 
Their stocks * maun a' be souglit 
ance : 
They steek their een, an' grape, an* 
wale. 
For muckle anes, an' straught anes. 
Poor hav'rel Will fell aff the drift, 
An' wander'd thro' the Bow-kail, 
An' pou't, for want o' better shift, 
A runt was like a sow-tail, 

Sae bow't that night. 

Then, straught or crooked, yird or 
naue. 

They roar an' cry a' throu'ther ; 
The vera wee things, toddliu, rin, 

Wi' stocks out-owre their shouther ; 
An' gif tne custocks sweet or sour, 

Wi' joctelegs they taste them j 
8yne cbziely, aboon the door, 

Wi' C'^nie care, they've placed them 



iThe lassea staw frae 'mang them a' 

To pou their stalks o' corn ; f 
But liab slips out, an' jinks about, 

Behint the muckle thorn : 
He grippet Nelly hard an' fast ; 

Loud skirl'd a' the lasses ; 
But her tap-pickle maist was lost, 

When kiutlin i' the fause-liouse J 
Wi' him that night. 

The auld guidwif e's weel-hoordit nits § 
Are round an' round divided, 

An' monie lads' and lasses' fates 
Are there that night decided : 



Some kindle, couthie, side by side. 
An' burn thegither trimly ; 

Some start awa, wi saucy pride. 
An' jump out-owre the chimlie 
Fu' high that night. 

Jean slips in twa, wi' tentie e'e ; 

Wha 'twas, she wadna tell ; 
But this is Jock, and this is mu. 

She says in to hersel : 
He bleez'd owre her, an' she owrs 
him, 

As they wad never mair part ; 
Till fuff I he started up the lum. 

An' Jean had e'en a sair heart 
To see't that night. 

Poor Willie, wi' his bow-kail runt, 

Was brunt wi' primsie Mallie, 
An' Mary, nae doubt, took the drunt, 

To be compar'd to Willie : 
Mall's nit lap out, wi' pridefu' fling. 

An' her ain lit it burnt it ; 
While Willie lap, an' swoor by jing; 

'Twas just the way he wanted 
To be that night. 

Nell had the fause- house in her min'V 

She pits hersel an' Rob in ; 
In loving bleeze they sweetly join, 

Till white in ase they're sobbin : 
Nell's heart M^as dancin at the view ; 

She whisper'd Rob to leuk for't : 
Rob, stownlins, prie'd her bonuie mou, 

Fu' cozie in the neuk for't, 
Unseen that night. 



* The first ceremony of Hcalloween is pulling each a c<rfoc^, or plant of kail. They must go 
out hand in hand, with eyes shut, and pull the first they meet with. Its being big or litt e, 
straight or crooked, is prophetic of the size and shape of the gr^nd object of all their spells — 
the husband or wife. If nny yi.7'd, or earth, stick to the root, that is tocher, or fortune : and 
the taste of the cvstocl^ that "is the heart of the stem, is indicative of the natural temper and 
disposition. Lastly, the stems, or to give them their ordinary appellation, the runts, are placed 
somewhere above the head of the door ; and the Christian names of the people whom chance 
brings into the house are. according to the priority of placing the runts, the names in question. 
R. B. 

+ They go to the barn-yard and pull each, at three different times, a stalk of oats. If the 
third stnlk wants the tap-jiickle, that is, the grain at the top of the stalk, the party in question 
will come to the marriage-bed anything but a maid. R. B. 

X When the corn is in a a doubtful state, it being too green, or wet, the stack-builder, by 
means of old timber, etc., makes a large apartment in his stack, with an opening in ihu side 
whi< h is fairest exposed to the wind : this he calls a Fause-hoiise. R. B. 

§ Burning the nuts is a famous charm. They name the lad and the lass to each particular 
mat. as they Jay them in the fire : and accordingly as ihey burn quietly together, or start from 
beside one another, the course and issue of the courtship will be. B. B. 



68 



KALLOWEEK. 



But Merran sat beliint their backs, 

Tier thoughts on Andrew Bell ; 
She lea'es them gashin at their cracks. 

An' slips out by hersel : 
She thro' the 3'ard the nearest taks, 

An' to the kiln she goes then, 
An' darklins grapit for the banks. 

And in the blue-clue * throws then, 
Right fear't that night. 

^n' aye she win't, an' ay she swat, 

i wat she made nae jaukin ; 
Till something held within the pat, 

Guid Lord ! but she was quaukin I 
But whether 'twas the Deil himsel. 

Or whether 'twas a bauk-en'. 
Or whether it was Andrew Bell, 

She did na wait on talkin 

To spier that night. 

Wee Jenny to her Grannie says, 

" Will ye go wi' me, Grannie ? 
Ill eat the apple f at the glass. 

I gat frae uncle Johnie ": 
She'fuff't her pipe wi' sic a lunt, 

In wrath she was sae vap'rin, 
She notic"t na, an aizle brunt 

Her braw new worset apron 
Out thro' that night. 

" Ye little Skelpie-limmer's face ! 

I daur you try sic sportin, 
As seek the foul Thief ony place, 
For him to spae your fortune ? 
Nae doubt but ye may get a sight ! 

Great cause ye hae to fear it ; 
For monie a ane has got a fright, 
An' liv'd an' di'd deleeret, 
On sic a night. 



" Ae Hairst afore the Sherra-moof. 

I mind't as weel's yestreen, 
I was a gilpey then, I'm sure 

I was na past fyfteen : 
The simmer had been cauld an' wat, 

An' stuH was unco' green ; 
An' ay a rantin kirn we gat, 

An' just on Halloween 

It fell that night. 

" Our stibble-rig was Rab M'Graen, 

A clever, sturdy fallow ; 
His sin gat Eppie Sim wi' wean, 

That liv'ci in Achmacalla ; 
He gat hemp-seed, :j: I mind it weel. 

An' he made unco lig-ht o't ; 
But monie a day was by himsd. 

He was sae sairly frighted 
That vera night." 

Then up gat fechtin Jamie Fleck, 

An' he swoor by his conscience. 
That he could saw hemp-seed a peck ; 

For it was a' but nonsense : 
The auld guidman raught down the 
pock. 

An' out a handfu' gied him ; 
Syne bad him slip frae 'mang the folk. 

Sometime when nae ane see'd him. 
An' try't that night. 

He marches thro' amang the stacks, 

Tho' he was something sturtin ; 
The graip he for a harrow taks. 

An' haurls at his curpin : 
An' ev'ry pow an' then, he says, 

"Hemp-seed, I saw thee. 
An' her that is to be my lass. 

Come after me an' draw thee 
As fast this night." 



* Whoever would, with success, try this epell, mnst strictly observe those directions : Steal 
out, all alone, to the kiln, and darkling, throw into the pot a cine of hlue yarn : wind it in a 
-Qew ciu^- o£f the old one ; and towards the latter end something wil hold the thread ; demand 
Wha hands ? i.e., who holds ? an answer will be returned trom the kiln-pot, by naming the 
Christian and surname of your future spouse. R. B. 

t Take a candle and go alone to a looking-glass ; eat an apple before it, and some trar^itiong 
say you should comb your hair all the time ; the face of your conjugal companion to he will be 
Been in the glass, as if peeping over your shoulder. R. B. 

% Sreal out unperceived and sow a handful of iiemp-seed. harrowing it with anything you 
can conveniently draw after you. Repeat now and then, " Hemp-seed, I saw thee, hemp-seed, 
I saw thee ; and him (or her) that is to be my true-love, come after me and pou thee." Lof)k 
over your left shoulder, and you will see the appearance of the person invoked in the attitude 
of pulling hemp. Some traditions c-ay, " come after me and shaw thee," that is, show thyself : 
in which case it simply appears. Others omit the harrowing, and say, " come after roc and 
harrow thee." R. B. 



HALLOWEEN, 



59 



He whistl'd ui Lord Lenox' march, 

To keep his courage cheary ; 
Altho' his hair began to arch, 

He was sae flej^'d an' eerie : 
Till presently he hears a squeak. 

An' then a grane an' gruntle ; 
He by his shouther gae a keek, 

An' tumbl'd wi' a wintle 

Out-owre that night. 

He roar'd a horrid murder-shout, 

Li dreadfu' desperation ! 
An' young an' auld come rinnin out, 

An' hear tiic sad narration : 
He swoor 'twas hilchin Jean M'Craw, 

Or crouchie Merran Humphie, 
Till stop ! she trotted thro' them a' ; 

An' wha was it but GrumpMe 
Asteer that niffht 1 



Meg fain wad to the barn gaen 

To winn three wechts o' naething ; ^ 
But for to meet the Deil her lane. 

She pat but little faith in : 
She gies the Herd a pickle nits, 

And twa red-cheekit apples, 
To watch, while for the barn she seta. 

In hopes to see Tam Kipples 
That vera night. 

She turns the key, wi' cannie thraw. 

An' owre the threshold ventures ; 
But first on Saw^nie gies a ca', 

Syne bauldly in she enters ; 
A ratton rattl'd up the wa'. 

An' she cry'd. Lord preserve her ! 
An' ran thro' midden-hole an' a', 

An' pray'd wi' zeal an' fervour, 
Fu' fast that niffht. 



They hoy't out Will, wi' sair advice ; 

They hecht him some fine braw ane , 
It chanced the stack he faddom'i 
thrice f 

Was timmer-propt for thrawin : 
He takes a swirlie, auld moss-oak, 

For some black, grousome Carlin ; 
An' loot a wince, an' drew a stroke, 

Till skin in blypes cam haurlin 

Atf's nieves that night." 

A wanton widow Leezie was, 

As cantie as a kitllin : 
But Och! that night, amang the shaws, 

She gat a fearfu' sett I in ! 
She thro' the whins, an' by the cairn. 

An' owre the hill gaed scrievin, 
Whare three lairds' lands met at a 
burn,:}: 

To dip her left sark-sleeve in, 
. Was bent that night. 

Whyles owre a linn the burnie plays. 

As thro' the glen it wimpl't ; 
Whyles round a rocky scar it strays ; 

Whyles in a wiel it dimpl't ; 
Whyles glitter'd to the nightly rays, 

Wi' bickering, dancing dazzle ; 
Whyles cookit underneath the braes, 

Below the spreading hazel, 

Unseen that night. 

Amang the brachens on the brae. 

Between her an' the moon. 
The Deil, or else an outler Quey, 

Gat up an' gae a croon : 
Poor Leezie's heart maist lap the hoQi\ 

Near lav'rock height she jumpit, 
But mist a fit, an' in the pool 

Out-owre the lugs she plumpit, 

Wi' a plunge that night. 

* This charm mnst likewise be performed unperceived and alone. You po to the ftarw and 
open both doors, taking them off the hini^^es, if possible ; for iliere is danger that th being 
abont to ai)i)ear may shut the doors, and do you some mischief. Then lake that insrrnment 
iis<'d iii winnowing the corn, which in our country dialect we call a wecht, and go throunh all 
ihe attitudes of letting down c.rn against the wind. Repeat it three times ; and the third time 
jin apparition will pass through the barn, in at the windy door and out at tiio other, having 
both the fi^'ure in questiou and the appearance or retinue" marking the employment or station 
in life. R. 13. 

t Take an opportunity of going, unnoticed, to a Bear-stack, and fathom it three times round. 
The last fa: horn of the la^t time you will catch iu your arms the appearance of your future 
conjngai yoke fellow. R. B. 

X You ■ <) nut. one or more (for this is a social spell), to a south running spring or rivulet, 
whore " three lairds' lands meet," and dip your left shirt sleeve. Go to bed in siL'htof a fire, 
and hang your wet 8l«^eve before it to dry. Lie awake, and somewhere near nniluight an 
apparition baling the exact figure of the grand object in question, will come and turn the 
sleeve, as i^ to 4rir the othei side of it. R. B. 



1 



60 



THE JOLL T BEGGARS. 



In order, on the clean hearth-stane. 

The luggies three* are ranged ; 
And ev'ry time great care is taen, 

To see them duly changed : 
Auld uncle John, wha wedlock's joys 

Sin' Mar's-year did desire. 
Because he gat the toom dish thrice. 

He heav'd them on the fire 
I Xn wrath that night. 



Wi' merry sangs, and friendly cracks, 

I wat they did na weary ; 
And unco tales, an' funnie jokes. 

Their sports were cheap and cheary ; 
Till butter'd So'ns,f wi' fragrant lunt. 

Set a' their gabs a-steerin ; 
Syne, wi' a social glass o' strunt, 

They parted aff careerin 

Fu' blythe that night. 



THE JOLLY BEGGARS. 

A CANTATA. 
EECITATrV^O. 






When lyart leaves bestrow the yird, 
Or, wavering like the bauckie bird, 

Bedim caiild Boreas' blast : 
When hailstanes drive wi' bitter sky te, 
And infant fro&is begin to bite, 

In hoary cranreuch drest ; 
Ae night, at e'en, a merry core 

O' randie, gangrel bodies, 
tn Poosie-Nansie's held the splore. 
To drink their orra duddies : 
Wi' quaihng and laughing, 

They ranted and they sang ; 
Wi' jumping and thumping. 
The verra girdle rang. 



First, nicst the fire, in auld red raga, 
Ane sat, weel brac'd wi' meaK ba^s. 

And knapsack a' in order ; 
His doxy lay within his arm, 
Wi' usquebae and blankets warm. 

She blinket on her sodger ; 
An' aye he gies the towsie drab 

The tither skelpin' kiss. 
While she held up her greedy gab, 
Just like an aumous dish ; 
Ilk smack still, did crack still, 

Just like a cadger's whip. 
Then staggering, and swaggering, 
He roar'd this ditty up — 



AIR. 

Tune—" Soldier's Joy." 

I AM a son of Mars, who have been in many wars, 
And show my cuts and scars wherever I come ; 
This here was for a wench, and that other in a trench, 
When welcoming the French at the sound of the drum. 

Lai de dandle, etc. 

My 'prentiship I pass'd where my leader breath'd his last. 
When the bloody die was cast on the heights of Abram ; 
I serv'd out my trade when the gallant game was play'd. 
And the Morro low was laid at the sound of the drum. 

Lai de dandle, etc. 

I lastly was with Curtis, among the floating batt'ries, 
And there I left for witness an arm and a limb : 
Yet let my country need me, with Elliot to head me, 
I'd Clatter on my stumps at the sound of a drum. 

Lai de dandle, etc. 

* Take three diphes : put clean water in one, foul water in the other, and leave the third 
empty. Blindfold a person, and lead him to the hearth where the dishes are ranged ; he (or 
she) dips the left, hand : if by chance in tne clean water, thefnture husband or wife will come 
to the bar of matrimony a maid ; if the foul, a widow ; if in the empty dish, it foretells with 
equal certainty no nVarrince at all . It is repeated three limes, and every time the arrangement 
©f the dishes is altered. K. B. 

t Sowens, with butter instead of milk to them, is always the Halloween Supper. K. B. 



THE JOLL Y BEGGARS. 61 

And now, iho' I must beg, with a wooden arm and leg. 
And many a tatter'd rag hanging orer my bum, 
I'm as happy with my wallet, my bottle, and my callet. 
As when I us'd in scarlet to follow a drum. 

Lai de daudlc, etc. 

What tho' with hoary locks, I must stand the winter shocks. 
Beneath the woods and rocks, oftentimes for a home ; 
When the t'other bag I sell, and the t'other bottle tell, 
I could meet a troop of hell at the sound of the drum. 

RECITATIVO. 

He ended ; and the kebars euk A fairy fiddler frae the neuk, 

Aboon the chorus roar ; He skirl'd oat encore ! 

While frightened rattons backward But up arose the martial chuck 

leuk, And laid the loud uproar. 
And seak the benmost bore ; 

AIR. 

Tune—" Soldier Laddie.** 

I ONCE was a maid, tho' I cannot tell when. 
And still my delight is in proper young men ; 
Some one of a troop of dragoons was my daddfe. 
No wonder I'm fond of a sedger laddie.' 

Sing, Lai de lal, etc. 

The first of my loves was a swaggering blade. 
To rattle the thundering drum was his trade ; 
His leg was so tight, and his cheek was so ruddy, 
Transported I was with my sodger laddie. 

Sing, Lal de lal, etc. 

But the godly old chaplain left him in the lurch, 
So the sword I forsook for the sake of the church ; 
He ventur'd the soul, I risked the body, 
'Twas then I prov'd false to my sodger laddie. 

Sing, Lal de lal, etc. 

Full soon I grew sick of my sanctified sot. 
The regiment at large for a husband I got ; 
From the gilded spontoon to the fife I was ready, 
I asked no more but a sodger laddie. 

Sing, Lal de lal, etc. 

But the peace it reduc'd me to beg in despair, 
Till I met my old boy at a Cunningham fair ; 
His rags regimental they flutter'd so gaudy. 
My heart it rejoic'd at my sodger laddie. 

Sing, Lal de lal, etc. 

And now I have liv'd — I know not how long, 

And still I can join in a cup or a song ; , 

But whilst with both hands I can hold the glass steady. 

Here's to thee, mj hero, my sodger laddie. 

Sing, Jjal de laX, ete. 



€$ 



THE JOLLY BEGGARS. 



RECITATIVO. 

Poor Merry Andrew, in the neuk 
Sat guzzling wi' a tinkler liizzie , 

They mind't na wlia the chorus tcuk, 
Between themselves they were sae 
bizzy ; 

^t length, wi' drink and courting 
dizzy, 
He stoitered up an' made a face ; 
Then turn'd, an' laid a smack on 
Grizzy, 
Syne tun'd his pipes wi' grave 
grimace. 

AIR. 

Tune— "Auld Syr Syraon." 

Sir Wisdom's a fool when he's fou, 
Sir Knave is a fool in a session ; 

He's there but a 'prentice I trow, 
But I am a fool by profession. 

My grannie she bought me a beuk. 
And I held awa to the school ; 

I fear I my talent misteuk, 
But what will ye hae of a fool ? 

For drink I would venture my neck ; 

A hizzie's the half o' my craft ; 
Biit what could ye other expect, 

Of ane that's avowedly daft ? 

I ance was ty'd up like a stirk, 
For civilly swearing and quaffing ; 

I ance was abus'd i' the kirt , 
For towzling a lass i' my da*Iln. 

Poor Andrew that tumble? for sport. 
Let naebody name wi' a jeer ; 

There's ev'n, I'm tauld, i' the court, 
A tumbler ca'd the Premier. 

Observ'd ye, you reverend lad 
Maks faces'to tickle the mob ; 

B.8 rails at our mountebank squad—* 
It's rivalship just i' the job. 

And now my conclusion I'll tell, 
For faith I'm confoundedly dry ; 

The chiel that's a fool for himsel', 
Gude Lord, is far dafter than I. 

RECITATIVO. 

Tiien niest outspak a raucle carlin, 
Wlia kent fu' weel to deck the ster- 
ling. 



For monie a pursie sue nad hodked , 
And had in monie a well been dooked 
Her dove had been a Highland laddiQ 
But weary fa' the waefu' woodie ! 
Wi' sighs and sabs, she thus began 
To wail her braw John Highlandman : 

AIR. 

Tune—" O, an' ye were dead, Guidman." 

A Highland lad my love was born, 
The Lawlan' laws he held in scorn : 
But he still was faithfu' to his clan, 
My gallant braw John Higlilandmai^. 

CHORUS. 

Sing, hey, my braw John Highland- 
man ! 

Sing, ho, my braw John Highland' 
man ! 

There's no a lad in a' the Ian' 

Was match for my John Highland- 



With his philibeg an' tartan plaid. 
And gude claymore down by his side. 
The ladies' hearts he did trepan. 
My gallant braw John Highlandman. 
Sing, hey, etc. 

We ranged a' from Tweed to Spey, 
And liv'd like lords and ladies gay j 
For a Lawlan' face he feared nane. 
My gallant braw John Highlandman. 
Sing, hey, etc. 

They banish'd him beyond the sea. 
But ere the bud was on the tree, 
Adown my cheeks the pearls ran. 
Embracing my John Highlandman. 
Sing, hey, etc. 

But, oh ! they catch'd him at the laat 
And bouud him in a dungeon fast ; 
My curse upon them every ane. 
They've hang'd my braw John High 
landman 

Sing, hey, etc, 

And now a widow, I must mourn 
The pleasures that will ne'er rcturt. , 
No comfort but a hearty can, 
When I think on John Highlandman 
Sing, hey, etc 



THE JOLLY BEGGARS. 



69 



RECITATIVO. 

A pigmy Scraper wi' his fiddle, 
Wha us'd at trysts aud iairs to driddle, 
Her strappi'i limb aud gaucy middle 

(He reached iiae higher), 
Had hol't Ills heartie like a riddle, 

And blawu't ou tire. 

Wi' hand on haunch, aud upward ee, 
He croon'd his gamut, one, two, three, 
Then, in an Arioso key, 

The wee Apollo 
Set aii, wi' Allegretto glee 

His iiio-a solo. 



He sv/oor, by a' was svv^earing worthy 

To spit him like a piiver. 
Unless lie wad from that time forth 

Relinquish her for ever. 

Wi' ghastly ee, poor tw^eedle-dea 
Upon his hunkers bended. 

And pray'd for grace, wi' ruefu' itacq 
And sae the quarrel ended. 

But tho' hi3 little heart did grieve 
When round the tinkler presl her, 

He feigned to snirtle in his sleeve, 
When thus the Cai.rd address'd her 



Tune- 



air. 

Whistle ovvre the laveo't.* 



Let me ryke up to dight that tear. 
And go wd' me and be my dear, 
And then your every care and fear 
May whistle owre the lave o't. 



I am a fiddler to my trade. 
And a' the tunes tl-at e'er I play'd, 
The sweetest still to wife or maid, 
Was whistle owre the lave o't. 

lAt kirns and weddings we'se be there, 
jAnd oh ! sae nicely's we will fare ; 
'We'll bouse about, till Daddie Care 
j Sings whistle owre the lave o't. 
! I am, etc. 

iSae merrily ''s the banes we'll pyke, 
I And sun oursels about the dyke, 
(And at our leisure, when ye like, 
I Well whistle owre the lave o't. 

I am, etc. 

Bu's bless me wi' your heav'n o' 

charms, 
And T/aile I kittle hair on thairms, 
Hunger, cauld, and a' sic harms, 
( May whistle owre the lave o't. 
I I am, etc. 

I RECITATIVO. 

tier charms had struck a sturdy Caird, 
: As well as poor Grut-scraper ; 

re taks the fiddler by the beard. 
And draws a reostj rapier — 



AIR. 

Tune—" Clout the Cauldron," 

My bonnie lass, I work in brass, 

A tinkler is my station ; 
I've travell'd round all Christian 
ground 
In this my occupation ; 
I've ta'en the gold, I've been enroll'd 

In many a noble squadron ; 
But vain they search'd when ofL" 1 
march'd 
To go and clout the cauldron. 

I've ta'en the gold, etc. 

Despise that shrimp, that wither'(f 
imp, 

Wi' a' his noise and cap'riti', 
And tak a share wi' those that bear 

The budget and the apron ; 
And by that sioup, my fr.itli and houp 

And by that dear Kilbagie, 
If e'er ye want, or meet wi' scant, 

May I ne'er weet my craigie. 

And by that stoup, etc 



RECITATIVO. 

The Caird prevail'd— th' unblushing 
fa^'r 

In his embraces sunk, 
Partly wi' love o'ercome sae sair. 

And partly she was drunk. 
Sir Violino, with an air 

That show'd a man o' spunk, 
Wish'd unison between the paii. 

And made the bottle clunk 

To their heaJtii that td^^. 



14: 



THE JOLLY BEGGARS. 



J^ut hurchin Cupid shot a shaft 

That play'd a dame a shavie, 
The fiddler rak'd her fore and aft, 

Behint the chicken cavie. 
Her lord, a wight o' Homer's craft, 

Thro' hmpin' wi' the spavie, 
He hirpl'd up, and lap like daft, 

And shor'd them Dainty Davie. 
O boot that night. 

He was a care-defying blade 

As ever Bacchus listed. 
Thro' Fortune sair upon him laid, 

His heart she ever miss'd it. 
He had nae wish, but— to be glad. 

Nor want but — when he thirsted ; 
He hated not but — to be sad. 

And thus the Muse suggested 
His sang that night. 

AIR. 

Tune—" For a' that, and a' t'aat." 
I AM a bard of no regard 

Wi' gentlefolks, an' a' that ; 
jBut Homer-like, the glowran byke, 

Frae town to town I draw that. 

CHORUS. 

For a' that, and a' that. 

And twice as meikle's a' that ; 
I've lost but ane, I've twa behin', 

I've wife eneugh for a' that. 

I never drank the Muses' stank, 
Castalia's burn, an' a' that ; 

But there it streams, and richly reams. 
My Helicon I ca' that. 

For a' that, etc. 

Great love I bear to a' the fair, 
Tlieir humble slave, an' a' that ; 

But lordly will, I hold it still 
A mortal sin to thraw that. 

For a' that, etc. 

In raptures sweet, this hour we meet, 
Wi' mutual love, an' a' that ; 

But for how lang the flie may stang, 
Let inclination law that, 

For a that, etc. 

riieir tricks and craft hae put me daft. 
They've ta'en me in, an' a' that ; 

But clear your decks, and here's the 
sex ! 
I Mke the jads for a' that 



For a' that, and a' that. 

And twice as muckle's a' that. 
My dearest bluid, to do them 
guid. 
They're welcome till't for a' 
that. 

RECITATIVO. 

So sung the bard — and Nansie's wa's 
Shook with a thunder of applause, 

Re-echo'd from each mouth ; 
They toom'd their pocks, an' pawn'd 

their duds. 
They scarcely left to co'er their fuds. 

To quench their lowan drouth. 

Then owre again, the jovial thrang 

The poet did request. 
To lowse his pack, an' wale a sang, 

A ballad o' the best ; 
He, rising, rejoicing, 

Between his twa Deborahs, 
Looks round him, an' found them 

Impatient for the chorus. 

AIR. 

Tune— "Jolly Mortals, fill your glasses." 

See ! the smoking bowl before us, 
Mark our jovial ragged ring ; 

Round and round take up the chorus- 
And in raptures let us sing : 

CHORUS. 

A fig for those b}^ law protected / 
Liberty's a glorious feast ! 

Courts for cowards were erected. 
Churches built to please the priest 

What is title ? what is treasure ? 

What is reputation's care ? 
If we lead a life of pleasure, 

'Tis no matter, how or where ! 

A fig, eta 

With the ready trick and fable. 
Round we wander all the day : 

And at night, in barn or stable. 
Hug our doxies on the hay. 

A fig, etc 

Does the train-attended carriage 
Thro' the country lighter rove ? 

Dees the sober bed of marriage 
Witness brighter scenes of love ? 
A fig, eU% 



THE AULD FARMER'S JS^EW-TEAR 8ALUTA TION. 



65 



Life is all a variorum, 

We regard not how it goes ; 

L'Bt them caul about decorum 
Who have characters to lose. 

A fig, etc. 



Here's to budgets, bags, aud wallctfc \ 
Here's to all the wandering train .' 

Here's our ragged brats and callets ! 
One and all crj out, Amen ! 

A fig, etc. 



THE AULD FARMER'S NEW-YEAR MORNING SALU^ 
TATION TO HIS AULD MARE, MAGGIE. 

ON GIVING HER THE ACCUSTOMED RIPP OF CORN TO HANSEL IN THE NEW TEAR. 

A GUiD New- Year I wish thee, Mag- 
gie ! 
Hae, there's a ripp to thy auld baggie : 
1*ho' thou's howe-backit, now, an' 
knaggie, 

I've seen the day. 

Thou could hae gane like ony staggie 

Out-owre the lay. 

Tho' now thou's dowie, stiff, an' crazy. 
An' thy auld hide's as white's a daisie, 
Ive seen tlieedappl't, sleek an' glaizie, 

A bonie gray : 
He should been tight that daur't to 
raize thee, 

Ance in a day. 

Thcc ance was i' the foremost rank, 
A- filly buirdly, stoeve, an' swank, 
A.n' set weel down a shapely shank, 

As e'er tread yird ; 
An' could hae flown out-owre a stank, 

Like onie bird. 



It's now some nine-an'-twenty year. 
Sin' tliou was my guid-father's meere ; 
He gied me thee, o' iocher clear, 

An' fifty mark ; 
Tho' it was sma', 'twas weel-won gear, 

An' thou was stark. 

Wh3n first I gaed to woo my Jenny, 
Yc then was trottin wi' your minnie , 
Ti.o' ye was trickle, slee, an' funnie. 

Ye ne'er was donsie ; 
But haraely, tawie, quiet, an' cannie, 

An' unco sonsie. 

Tliat day, ye pranc'd wi' muckle pride, 
W'.en ye bure hame my bonie bride ; 
/„ji' fcwcct an' gracefu' she did ride, 

Wi' maiden air ! 
Kyle-Stewart I could bragged wiae, 

For sic a pair. 



Tho' now ye dow but hoy te and hobxc_ 
An' wintle like a saumont-coble. 
That day ye was a jinker noble 

For heels an' win ! 
An' ran them till they a' did wauble, 

Far, far bdiin'. 

When thou an' I were young and 

skeigh, 
An' stable-meals at fairs were driegh. 
How thou wad prance, an' snore, an" 
skriegh 

An' tak the road ! 
Town's-bodies ran, and stood abeigh, 
An' ca't thee mad. 

When thou was corn't, an' I was mel- 
low. 
We took the road ay like a swallow : 
At Brooses thou had ne'er a fellow. 

For pith an' speed ; 
But ev'ry tail thou pny't them hollow, 

Whare'er tliou gaed. 

The sma', droop-rumpl't, hunter cattle, 
Might aiblins waur't tiiee for a brattle ; 
But sax Scotch miles thou try't their 
mettle, 

An' gart them whaizle : 
Nae whip nor spur, but just a wattle-- 

O' saugli or liazeL 

Thou was a noble fittie-lan'. 

As e'or in tug or tow was drawn . 

Aft thee an' X, in aught hours gaun. 

On guid March- weathei, 
Hae turn'd sax rood beside our liaa'. 

For days thegitiisr, 

TV^ii nev-^r 'jraindg't, an' fetch't, an* 

fliskit, 
But thy auld tail thou wad hae wlus^^ 



66 



TO A MOUSE, 



Aii' tf^read abreed tby weel-fill'd 
briskit, 

Wi' pith an' pow'r, 
Till spritty knowes wad rair't and 
riskit, 

An' sly pet owre. 

When frosts lay lung, an' snaws were 

deep, 
A.:' threat en'd labour back to keep, 
: gied thy cog a wee-bit heap 
Abocn the timnier ; 
i ken'd my Maggie wad na sleep 
"^For that, or simmer. 

In cart or car thou never reestit ; 
The stevest brae thou w^ad hae face't 

it; 
Thou never lap, an' sten't, an 
breastit, 

Then stood to blaw ; 
But just thy step a w^ee tiling hastit, 
Thou snoov't awa. 

My pleugh is now thy bairn-time a' : 
Four gallant brutes as e'er did draw : 



Ferbye sax mae, I've sell't awa. 

That thou hast nurst ; 
They drew me thretteen pund an' twaj 

The vera warst. 

Monic a sair daurk we tz^a ha*, 

wrought, 
An' wd' the w^eary warl' fought ! 
An' monie an anxious daj', I thought 

We w ad be beat ! 
Yet here to crazy age ^ve're brought, 

Wi' something yet. 

And think na, my auld, trusty servan', 
That now perhaps thou'sless deservin, 
An' thy auld days may end iii starvin', 

For my last fou, 
A heapit stimpart, I'll reserve ane 

Laid by for you. 

We've worn to crazy years thcgilher , 
AVe'll toyte about wi' ane anither ; 
W"i' tentie care I'll flit thy tether 

To some hain'd rig, 
Whare ye may nobly rax your leather, 

Wi' sma' fatigue. 



TO A MOUSE, OK TURNING HER UP IN HER NEST 
WITH THE PLOUGH, NOVEMBER, 1785. 

Wee, sleekit, cow'rin, tim'rous beastie, 
O, what a panic's in thy breastie ! 
Thou need na start awa sae hasty, 

Wi' bickering brattle ! 
I w^ad be laith to rin an' chase thee, 

Wi' murd'ring pattle 1 

I'm truly sorry man's dominion. 
Has broken Nature's social union. 
An' justities that iil opinion. 

Which makes thee startle. 
At me, Ihy poor, earth-born compan- 
ici:, 

An' fellow-mortal 1 

I doubt na, wdiiles, but thou may 

thieve ; 
What then ? poor beastie, thou maun 

live ! 
A daimeu-icker in a thrave. 

'S a sma' request : 

X'll get a biessin wi' the lave, 

And never miss't 1 



Thy w^ee bit housie, too, in ruin ! 
Its silly wa's the win's are strewin ! 
Al' naething, now, to big a new ane. 

6' foggage green ! 
An' bleak Decen.ber's winds ensuin, 

Baith snell an' keen 1 

Thou saw the fields laid bare and 

w^aste, 
An' weary winter comin fast. 
An' cozie here, beneath the blast, 

Tiiou thought to dwell 
Till crash ! the cruel coulter past 

Out tliro' thy cell. 

That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble 
Has cost thee mony a weary nibble I 
Kow thou's turn'd out, for a' thy 
trouble, 

But house or hald, 
To thole the winter's sleety dribble. 

An' cranreuch cauid I 



A WINTER NIGHT. 



69 



But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane, 
In proving- foresight may ha vain : 
Tlie best laid scliemes o' mice an' men 

Gang aft a-gley, 
A»' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain. 

For promis'd joy. 



Still thou art blest, compar'd wi' me ' 
The present only toucheth thee : 
But, Och 1 I backward cast my e'e 

On prospects drear I 
An' forward, tho' 1 canna see, 

I guess an' fear. 



A WINTER NIGHT. 

Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are, 
That bide the peliing of this pitiless storm I 
How shall your houseless heads, and unfed sides. 
Your loop'd and window'd raggedness, defend you, 
From seasons such as these ? 

Shakespeare. 



When biting Boreas, tell and doure, 
Sharp shivers thro" the leafless bow'r ; 
When Pha^bus gies a short-liv'd glow'r. 

Far south the lift, 
Dim-dark'ning thro' the tiaky show'r. 

Or whirling drift : 

Ae night the storm the steeples 

rocked. 
Poor Labour sv/eet in sleep was locked. 
While burns, wi' snawy w^reeths up- 
choked, 

Wild-eddying swirl, 
Or thro' the mining outlet bocked, 

Down headlong hurl. 

List'uing, the doors an' winnocks 

rattle, 
I thought me on the ourie cattle, 
Or silly sheep, wha bide this brattle 

O' winter war, 
And thro' the d.ift, deep-lairing, 
sprattle. 

Beneath a scar. 

Ilk happing bird, wee, helpless thing ! 
That, in the merry months o' spring. 
Delighted me to hear thee sing. 

What comes o' thee ? 
Whare wilt thou cow'r thy chittering 
win' 

An' close thy e'e ? 

Ev'n you on murd'ring errands, toil'd. 
Lone from your savage homes exil'd, 
The blood-stain d roost, and sheep- 
cote spoild 

My heart forgets, 
While pity less the tempest wild 

Sore on you beats. 



Now Phoebe, in her midnight reign, 
Dark muffl'd, view'd the dreary plain ; 
Still crowding thoughts, a pensive 
train, 

Rose in my soul. 
When on my ear this plaintive strain, 

Slow, solemn, stole — 

"Blow, blow, ye winds, with 

heavier gust ! 
And freeze, thou bitter-biting 

frost ! 
Descend, ye chilly, smothering 

snows ! 
Not all your rage, as now, united 

show^s 
More hard unkindness, unrelent- 

Vengeful malice unrepenting, 
Than heav'n-illumin'd man on brother 
man bestows ! 
See stern Oppression's iron grip, 
Or mad Ambition's gory hand. 
Sending, like blood-hounds from the 
slip, 
Woe, want, and murder o'er a 
_ land ! 
Ev'n in the peacefid rural vale. 
Truth, w^eeping, tells the mournfu! 
tale, 
How pamper'd Luxury, Flatt'ry by 
her side. 
The parasite empoisoning her ear, 
With all the servile wretches in the 
' rear, 
Looks o'er proud property, extended 
wide ; 
And eyes the simple rustic hind. 



68 



EPISTLE TO DAVIE, A BROTHER POET, 



Whose toil upholds the glitt'ring 
sliow, 
A creature of another kind, 
8ome coarser substance, unrei5n'd, 
Plac'd for her lordly use thus far, 
thus vile, below. 

" Where, where is Love's fond, 

tender throe, 
With lordly Honour's lofty brow, 
'i'lie pow'rs you proudly own ? 
Is there, beneath Love s noble name, 
Can harbour, dark, the selfish aim, 

To bless himself alone ! 
Mark maiden-innocence a prey 

To love-pretending snares, 
This boasted honour turns away. 
Shunning soft pity's rising sway, 
Regardless of the tears, and unavail- 
ing pray'rs ! 
Perhaps this hour, in mis'ry's 

squalid nest, 
She strains your infant to her joy- 
less breast, 
And with a mother's fears shrinks at 
the rocking blast ! 

"Oh ye! who, sunk in beds of 

down, 
Feel not a want hut what yourselves 

create, 
Think, for a moment, on his 

wretched fate. 



Whom friends and fortune qmx^ 
disown ! 
Ill-satisfied keen nature's clam'rouu 
call, 
Stretch d on his straw he lays him- 
self to sleep. 
While thro' the ragged roof and 

cliinky wall, 
Chill o'er liis_ slumbers, piles the 

drifty heap ! 
Think on the dungeon's grim con 

fine. 
Where guilt and poor misfortune 

pine ! 
Guilt, erring man, relenting view I 
But shall thy legal rage pursue 
" The wretch, already crushed low. 
By cruel fortune's undeserved blow? 
Affliction's sons are brothers, in dis- 
tress ; 
A brother to relieve, how exquisite 
the bliss ! " 

I heard nae mair, for Chanticleer 
Shook oif the pouthery snaw, 

And hail'd the morning with a cheer, 
A cottage-rousing craw. 

But deep this truth impress'd my mind 
Thro' all His works abroad, 

The heart benevolent and kind 
The most resembles God. 



EPISTLE TO DAVIE, A BROTHER POET. 



While winds frae aff Ben-Lomond 

blaw, 
And bar the doors wi' driving snaw, 

And hing us owre the ingle, 
I set me down, to pass the time. 
And spin a verse or twa o' rhyme. 

In hamely, westlin jingle. 
While frosty winds blaw in the drift, 

Ben to the chimla lug, 
1 grudge a wee the Great-folk's gift. 
That live sae bien an snug : 
I tent less, and want less 
Their roomy fire-side ; 
But hanker and canker, 
•-- To see their cursed pride, - 



January — [1784], 

It's hardly in a body's pow'r. 

To keep, at times, frae being sour. 

To see how things are shar'd ; 
How best o' chiels are whyles in want, 
While coofs on countless thousands 
rant. 
And ken na how to wair't : 
But, Davie, lad, ne'er fash your head, 

Tho' we hae little gear, 
We're fit to win our daily bread. 
As lang's we're hale and fier : 
"Mair spier na, nor fear na," 
Auld age ne'er mind a feg ; 
The last o't, the warst o't. 
Is only but to beg. 



EPISTLE TO DAVIK A BROTHEIt POET. 



68 



To lie in kilns and barns at e'en, 
When l)anes are craz'd, and bluid is 
thin, 
Is, doubtless, great distress ! 
Yet then content would make us blest; 
Ev'n then, sometimes, we'd snatch a 
\ taste 

' Of truest happiness. 
The honest heart that's free frae a' 

Intended fraud or guile, 
However fortune kick the ba'. 
Has ay some cause to smile : 
And mind still, j^ou'll find still, 

A comfort this nae sma' ; 
Nae mair then, we'll care then, 
Nae farther can we fa'. 

What tho', like commoners of air. 
We wander out, we know not where. 

But either house or hal' ? 
Fet nature's charms, the hills and 

woods. 
The sweeping vales, and foaming 
floods. 
Are free alike to all. 
In days when daisies deck the ground. 

And blackbirds whistle clear. 
With honest joy our hearts will bound, 
To see the coming year : 
On braes when we please, then, 
We'll sit and sowth a tune ; 
Syne rhyme till't, we'll time till't, 
And sing't when we hae done. 

It's no in titles nor in rank ; 

It's no in wealth like Lon'on bank. 

To purchase peace and rest ; 
It's no in making muckle, mair : 
It's no in books, it's no in lear, 

To make us truly blest : 
If happiness hae not her seat 

And centre in the breast, 
We may be wise, or rich, or great. 
But never can be blest : 

Nae treasures, nor pleasures, 

Could make us happy lang ; 
The heart ay's the part ay. 

That makes us right or wrang. 
Think ye, that sic as you and I, 
Wha drudge and drive thro' wet an' 
dry, 
Wi' never ceasing toil ; 
Think ye, are we less blest than they, 
Wha scarcely tent us in their way. 
As hardly worth their while ? " 



Alas ! how aft in haughty mood, 

God's creatures they oppress ! 
Or else, neglecting a that's guid, 
Thry riot in excess ! 
Baith careless, and fearless. 
Of either heav'n or hell 1 
Esteeming, and deeming 
It's a' an idle tale ! 

Then let us cheerfu' acquiesce ; • 
Nor make our scanty pleasures less. 

By pining at our state ; 
And, even should misfortunes come, 
I, here wha sit, hae met wi' some, 

An's thankfu' for them yet. 
They gie the wit of age to youth ; 

They let us ken oursel : 
They mak us see the naked truth. 
The real guid and ill. 
Tho' losses, and crosses. 

Be lessons right severe, 
There's wit there, ye'll get there, 
Ye'll find nae other where. 

But tent me, Davie, ace o' hearts ! 
(To say aught less wad wrang the 
cartes. 
And flatt'ry I detest) 
This life has joys for you and I ; 
And joys that riches ne'er could buy ; 

And joys the very best. 
There's a' the pleasures o' the heart, 

The lover an' the fricn' ; 
Ye hae your Meg, your dearest part. 
And I my darling Jean 1 
It warms me, it charms me. 

To mention but her name : 
It heats me, it beets me. 
And sets me a' on flame ! 

O all ye pow'rs who rule above ! 
O Thou, whose very self art love ! 

Thou know'st my words sincere ! 
The life-blood streaming thro' my 

heart. 
Or my more dear immortal part. 

Is not more fondly dear ! 
When heart-corroding care and grief 

Deprive my soul of rest. 
Her dear idea brings relief 
And solace to my breast. 
Thou Being, All-seeing, 

O hear my fervent pray'r ; 
Still take her, and make her 
Thy most peculiar care 1 



76 



THE LAMENT, 



AH hail, ye tender feelings clear ! 
The smile of love, the friendly tear, 

The sympathetic glow ! 
Long since, this world's thorny ways 
Had number'd out my weary days, 

Had it not been for you ! 
Fate still has blest me with a friend. 

In every care and ill ; 
And oft a more endearing baud, 
A tie more tender still. 
It lightens, it brightens 
The teuebrific scene. 
To meet with, and greet with 
My Davie or my Jean. 



O, how that name inspires mysiyie! 
The words come skelpin, rankandfile, 

Aniai.->t before I ken ! 
The iv^ady measure rins as fine, 
As Pha'bus and the fan.ous Nine 

Were glowriu owre my pen. 
M}" spaviet Pegasus will limp, 

Tiil ance lie's fairly het ; 
And then he'll hilch and stilt and jimp^ 
An rin an unco fit : 
But lest then, the beast then. 
Should rue his hasty ride, 
I'll light now, and dight now 
His sweaty, wizen'd hide. 



THE LAMBNT, 



OCCASIONED BY THE UNFORTUNATE ISSUE OP A FRIENI> 9 AMOUR. 

Alas I how oft does Goodness wound itself, 
And sweet Affection prove the spring of woe I 

—Home. 



THOU pale Orb, that silent shines. 
While care-untroubled mortals sleep! 

Thou seest a wretch that inly pines, 
And wanders here to wail and weep ! 

With woe I nightly vigils keep. 
Beneath thy wan, unwarming beam: 

And mourn, in lamentation deep. 
How life and love are all a dream, 

1 joyless view thy rays adorn 
The faintly marked, distant hill: 

I joyless view thy trembling horn. 
Reflected in the gurgling rill : 

jMy fondly-fluttering heart, be still ! 
Thou busy pow'r. Remembrance, 
cease ! 

Ah ! must the agonizing thrill 
Forever bar returning peace ! 

No idly-feign'd poetic pains. 

My sad, love-lorn lamentings claim; 
No shepherd's pipe— Arcadian strains; 

No fabled tortures, quaint and tame: 
The plighted faith, the mntual flame; 

The oft attested Pow'rs above ; 
The promis'd father's tender name : 

These were the pledges of my love ! 

Enc'iOled in her clasping arms. 
How have the raptur'd moments 
flown ! 
How have I wish'd for fortune's 
charms, 
For her dear sake, and hers alone I 



And must I think ii ! is she gone, 
My secret heart's exulting boast ? 

And does she heedless hear my groan ! 
And is she ever, ever lost ? 

Oh ! can she b?ar so base a heart. 
So lost to honour, lost to truth, 
As from the fondest lover part. 

The plighted husband of her youth ! 
Alas ! life's path may be unsmooth ! 
Her way may lie thro' rough dis- 
tress ! 
Then, who her pangs and pains will 
soothe, 
Her sorrows share, and make them 
less? 

Ye winged houis that o'er us past, 

Enraptur'd more, the more enjoy'd, 
Your dear remembrance in my breastj 

My fondly-treasur'd thoughts em- 
ploy 'd. 
That breast, how dreary now, and 
void, 

For her too scanty once of room ! 
Ev'n ev'ry ray of hope destroy'd. 

And not a wish to gild the gloom ! 

The morn that warns th' approaching 
day. 

Awakes me up to toil and woe » 
I see the hours in long array. 

That I must suffer, lingering, sloW^ 



DESPONDEyCY, 



71 



Full many a pang, and many a throe, 
Keen recollection's direful train, 

Must wriug my soul, ere Phoebus, low. 
Shall kiss the distant, western main 

And when my nightly couch I try, 
Sore-harass'd out with care and 
grief. 
My toil-beat nerves, and tear-worn eye. 
Keep watchings with the nightly 
thief : 
Cr if I slumber, Fancy, chief, 

Reigns, haggard-wild, in sore af- 
fright : 
E'vn day, all-bitter brings relief. 
From such a horror-breathing night. 

O thou bright Queen, who o'er th' 
expanse 



Now highest reign'st, with boundless 
sway ! 
Oft has thy silent-marking glance 
Observ'd us, fondly-wand'ring, 
stray ! 
The time, unheeded, sped away, 
While love's luxurious pulse beat 
high, 
Beneath thy silver-gleaming ray. 
To mark the mutual-kindling eye. 

O scenes in strong remembrance set ! 

Scenes, never, never to return 1 
Scenes, if in stupoi* I forget, 

Again I feel, agnin I burn ! 
From ev'ry joy and plcr.sure torn. 

Life's weary vale I'll wander thro*; 
And hopeless, comfortless, I'll mourn 

A faithless woman's broken vow. 



DESPONDENCY. 



AN ODE. 



Oppkess'd with grief, oppress'd with 

care, 
A burden more than I can bear, 

I set me down And sigh : 
life I thou art a galling load. 
Along a rough, a weary road, 

To wretches such as I ! 
Dim-backward as I cast my view, 
Wh;it sick'ning scenes appear ! 
What sorrows yet may pierce me thro', 
Too justly I may fear! 
Still caring, despairing, 

Must be my bitter doom ; 
My woes here shall close ne'er, 
But with the closing tomb I 

Happy, ye sons of busy life. 
Who, equal to the bustling strife, 

No other view regard I 
Ev'n when the wished end's deny'd, 
Yet while the busy means are ply'd. 

They bring their own reward : 
Whilst I, a hope-abandon'd wight. 

Unfitted with an aim. 
Meet ev'ry sad returning night. 
And joyless morn the same ; 
You, bustling, and justling, 

Forget each grief and pain ^ 
1, listless, yet restless. 
Find every prospect vain. 



Hov/ blest the Solitary's lot. 
Who, all-forgetting, all-forgot. 

Within his humble cell. 
The cavern wild with tangling roots. 
Sits o'er his newly-gather'd fruits. 

Beside his crystal w^ell ! 
Or, haply, to bis ev'ning thought. 

By unfrequented stream. 
The ways of men are distant brought, 
A faint-collecled dream: 
While praising, and raising 

His thoughts to Heav'n on high, 
As wand 'ring, meand'ring. 
He views the solemn sky. 

Than I, no lonely hermit plac'd 
Where never human footstep trac'd, 

Less tit to play the part ; 
The lucky moment to improve, 
And just to stop, and just to moY6, 

With self-respecting art : 
But ah I those pleasures, loves, a^L; 
joys. 
Which I too keenly taste. 
The Solitary can despise. 
Can want, and yet be blest 1 
He needs not, he heeds not. 

Or human love or hate, 
U^hilst I here, must cry her' 
At perfidy ingrate I ' 



72 



THE (JOTTER ;l SATURDAY NIGHT. 



Oh, enviable, early days ! 
When dancing thoughtless pleasure's 
maze, 

To care, to guilt unknown ! 
How ill exchang'd for riper times. 
To see the follies, or the crimes. 

Of others, or mj- own I 



Ye tiny elves that guiltless sport. 

Like linnets in the bush, 
Ye liitle know cKe ills ye court, 
When manhood is your wish 1 
The losses, the crosses, 

That active men engage ! 
The fears all, the tears all, 
Of dim-decliniug age. 



WINTER. 



A DIRGE. 



The wintry west extends his blast. 

And hail and rain does blaw ; 
Or, the stormy north sends driving 
forth, 

The blinding sleet and snaw : 
While, tumbling brown, the burn 
comes down, 

And roars f rae bank to brae : 
And bird and beast in covert rest, 

And pass the heartless day. 

" The sweeping blast, the sky o'er- 
cast," 

The joyless winter-day, 
Let others fear, to me more dear 

Than all the pride of May ; 



The tempest's howl, it soothes mj 
soul, 

My griefs it seems to join ; 
The leafless trees my fancy please. 

Their fate resembles mine ! 



Thou Pow'r Supreme, whose mighty 
scheme 

These woes of mine fulfil. 
Here, firm, I rest, they must be best. 

Because they are Thy will ! 
Then all I want, (Oh ! do thou grant 

This one request of mine !) 
Since to enjo}' thou dost deny_ 

Assist me to resign, 



T^E COTTER'S SATURDAY NIGHT. 



INSCRIBED TO ROBERT AIKEN, ESQ., OP ATB. 

Let not Ambition mock their useful toil, 
Tlieir homely joys, and destiny obscure ; 

Nor Grand-nrhear, with a disdainful smile, 
The short and smiple annais of the Poor. 

— Grat. 

My lov'd, my honour'd, much respected friend I 

No mercenary bard his homage pays : 
With honest pride, I scorn each selfish end ; 

My dearest meed, a friend's esteem and praise : 
To you I sing, in simple Scottish laj^s, 

Tlie lowly train in life's sequester'd scene ; 
The native feelings strong, the guileless ways ; 

What Aiken in a cottage would have been ; 
Ah ! tho' his worth unknown, far happier there, I ween> 

jN"ovember chill blaws loud wi' angry sugh ; 

The shorl'ning winter-day is near a close ; 
The miry beasts retreating f rae the pleugh ; < 

The black'ning trains o' craws to their repose , 



TBE COTTER 'S SA TURD A Y NmHT, 73 

The toil-%Yorn Cotter f rae liis labour goes, 

This night his weekly moil is at an end, 
Collects his spades, his mattocks, and his hoca.. 

Hoping the morn in ease and rest to spend, 
And weary, o'er the moor, his course does hameward bend. 

At length his lonely cot appears in view. 

Beneath the shelter of an aged tree ; 
Th' expectant wee-things, toddlin, stacher through 

To meet their Dad, wi' flichterin noise an' glee. 
His wee bit ingle, blinkin bonilie. 

His clean hearth-stane, his thrifty wifie's smile. 
The lisping infant prattling on his knee. 

Does a' his weary carking cares beguile. 
An' makes him quite forget his labour an' his toil. 

Belyve, the elder bairns come drapping in. 

At service out, amang the farmers roun' , 
Some ca' the pleugh, some herd, some tentie rin 

A cannie errand to a neebor town : 
Their eldest hope, their Jenny, woman-grown, 

In youthfu' bloom, love sparkling in her e'e, 
Comes hame, perhaps, to shew a braw new gown. 

Or deposite her sair-won penny-fee. 
To help her parents dear, if they in hardship be. 

"With joy unfeign'd brothers and sisters meet. 

An' each for other's weelfare kindly spiers : 
The social hours, swift-wing'd, unnotic'd fleet ; 

Each tells the uncos that he sees or hears ; 
The parents, partial, eye their hopeful years ; 

Anticipation forward points the view. 
The mother, wi' her needle an' her sheers, 

' Gars auld claes look amaist as weel's the new ; 
The father mixes a' wi' admonition due. 

Their master's an' their mistress's command, 

The younkers a' are warned to obey ; 
An" mind their labours wi' an eydent hand. 

An' ne'er, tho' out o' sight, to jauk or play : 
An' O ! be sure to fear the Lord alway, 

** An' mind your duty, duly, morn an' night ! 
Lest in temptation's path ye gang astray, 

Luplore His counsel and assisting might : 
They never sought in vain that sought the Lord aright I" 

But hark ! a rap comes gently to the door. 

Jenny, wha kens the meaning o' the same. 
Tells how a neebor lad cam o'er the moor. 

To do some errands, and convoy her hame. 
The wily mother sees the conscious flame 

Sparkle in Jennys e'e, and flush her cheek ; 
Wi' heart-struck, anxious care, inquires his name, 

While Jenny hati^ins is afraid to speak ; 
Wee] pleas'a the mother hears, it's nae wild, worthless rake. 



74 TBE COTTER '8 8 A TURDA T NIGHT. 

Wi' kindly welcome, Jenny brings him ben ; 

A strappan youth ; he takes the mother's eye ; 
Blythe Jenny sees the visit's no ill ta'en ; 

The father cracks of horses, pleughs, and kye. 
The yovmgster's artless heart o'erfiows wi' joy, 

But bhUe and laithfu', scarce can weel behave ; 
The mother, wi' a woman's wiles, can spy 

^Vhat makes the youth sae bashfu' an' sae grave ; 
Weel-pleas'd to think her bairn's respected like the lave. 

O happy love ! where love like this is foimd 1 

O heart-felt raptures ! bliss beyond compare I 
I've paced much this weary, mortal round, 

And sage experience bids me this declare — 
*' If Heaven a draught of heavenly pleasure spare 

One cordial in this melancholy vale, 
'Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair. 

In other's arms breathe out the tender tale, 
Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the ev'ning gale." 

Is there, in human form, that bears a heart — 

A wretch ! a villain ! lost to love and truth 1 
That can, with studied, sly, ensnaring art, 

Betray sweet Jenny's unsuspecting youth? 
Curse on his perjur'd arts ! dissembling smooth \ 

Are honour, virtue, conscience, all exil'd? 
Is there no pity, no relenting ruth. 

Points to the parents fondling o cr tiieir child ? 
Then paints the ruin'd maid, and their distraction wild . 

But now the supper crowns their simple board, 

The healsome parritch, chief o' Scotia's food : 
The soupe their only Hawkie does afford, 

That 'yont the hallan snugly chows her cood ; 
The dame brings forth in complimental mood, 

To grace thelad, her weel-hain'd kebbuck, fell. 
An' aft he's prest, an' aft he ca's it guid ; 

The frugal wifie, garrulous, will tell. 
How 'twas a towmond auld, sin' lint was 1' the bell. 

The cheerfu' supper done, wi' serious face. 

They, round the ingle, form a circle wide ; 
The sire turns o'er, wi' patriarchal grace, 

The big ha'-Bible, ance his father's pride : 
His bonnet rev'rently is laid aside. 

His lyart haffets wearing thin an' bare ; 
Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide. 

He wales a portion with judicious care. 
And " Let us worship God ! " he says, with solemn air. 

They chant their artless notes in simple guise : 
They tune their hearts, by far the noblest aim ; 

PerhaiDS Dundee's wild warbling measures rise. 
Or plaintive Martyrs, worthy of the name •. 



TRE COTTER* S 8ATTIRDA T MOHT, i^ 

Or noble Elgin beets the lieav'nward flame, 

The sweetest far of Scotia's holy lays : 
Compared with these, Italian trills are tame ; 

The tickl'd ears no heartfelt raptures raise ; 
Nae unison hae they with our Creator's praise. 

The priest-like father reads the sacred page, 

How Abram was the friend of God on high ; 
Or Moses bade eternal w'arfare wage 

With Amalek's ungracious progeny ; 
Or how the royal Bard did groaning lie 

Beneath the stroke of Heavens avenging ire ; 
Or Job's pathetic plaint, and wailing cry ; 

Or wrapt Isaiah's wild, seraphic tire ; 
Or other holy Seers that tune the sacred lyre. 

Perhaps the Christian volume is the theme. 

How guiltless blood for guilty man was shed ; 
How He, who bore in Heaven the second name. 

Had not on earth whereon to lay His head; 
How His first followers and servants s^ped ; 

The precepts sage they wrote to many a land : 
How he, Avho lone in Patmos banished. 

Saw in the sun a mighty angel stand , 
And heard great Bab'lon's doom pronounc'd by Heavens command. 

Then kneeling d" wn, to Heaven's Eternal King, 

The saint,' the father, and the husband pn:ys : 
Hope " springs exulting on triumpiiant wing," 

That thus they aii shall meet in future days : 
There ever bask in uncreated rays, 

No more to sigh, or shed the oitter tear, 
Together hymning their Creator's praise, 

In such society, yet still more dear ; 
While circling Time moves round in an eternxil sphere 

Compar'd with this, how poor Religion's pride. 

In all the pomp of method, and of art, 
When men display to congregations wdde 

Devotion's ev'ry grace, except the heart ! 
The Power, iucens'd, the pageant will desert, 

The pompous strain, the sacerdotal stole ; 
But haply, in some cottage far apart, 

May hear, v/ell pleas'd, the language of the 30ul ; 
And in his Book of Life the inmates poor enrol. 

Then homeward all take olf their sev'ial w^ayj; 

The youngling cottagers retire to rest : 
The parent-pair their secret homage pay, 

And proffer up to Heav'n the warm request. 
That He wdio stills the raven's clam'^-ous nest. 

And decks the lily fair in flow'ry pride. 
Would, in the way His wisdom sees the best, 

For them and for their little ones provide ; 
Bu" chiefly, in their hearts with grace divine preside. 



76 MAH WAS MADE TO MOURHi. 

From scenes like these old Scotia's grandeur springs 

That makes her lov'd at home, rever'd abroad : 
Princes and lords are but the breath of kings, ^ 

" An honest man's the noblest work of God" 
And certes, in fair virtue's heavenly road. 

The cottage leaves the palace far behind ; 
What is a lordling's pomp ? a cumbrous load. 

Disguising oft the wretch of human kind, 
Studied in arts of hell, in wickedness relin'dl 

O Scotia ! my dear, my native soil ! 

For whom my warmest wish to Heaven is sent I 
Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil 

Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet contentl 
And, oh I may Heaven their simple lives prevent 

From luxury's contagion, weak and vile; 
Then, howe'er crowns and coronets be rent, 

A virtuous populace may rise the w^hile. 
And stand a wall of fire around their much-lov'd Isle. 

O Thou ! who pour'd the patriotic tide 

That stream'd thro' Wallace's undaunted heart ; 
"W ho dar'd to nobly stem tyrannic pride. 

Or nobly die, the second glorious part, 
(The patriot's God, peculiarly thou art. 

His friend, inspirer, guardian, and reward!) 
Oh never, never, Scotia's realm desert. 

But still the patriot, and the patriot-bard, 
Jn bright succession raise, her ornament and guard 1 



MAN WAS MADE TO MOURN. 

A DIRGE. 

When chill November's surly blast The sun that overhangs yon moors, 

Made fields and forests bare, Out-spreading far and wide, 

One ev'uing as I wander'd forth Where hundreds labour to support 

Along the banks of Ayr, A hauglity lordling's pride ; 

I spy'd a man, whose aged step I've seen yon weary winter sun 

\ Seem'd weary, worn with care ; Twice forty times return : 

' His face was f urrow'd o'er with years, And ev'ry time has added proofs. 

And hoary was his hair. That Man was made to mourn. 

Young stranger, whither wand'rest 

thou? O man ! while in thy early years. 

Began the rev'rend Sage ; How prodigal of time ! 

Post thirst of wealth thy step con- Mis-spending all thy precious hours, 

strain, Thy glorious youthful prime I 

Or youthful pleasure's rage? Alternate follies take the sway ; 

Or, haply, prest with cares and woes, Licentious passions burn ; 

Too soon thou hast began Which tenfold force give natural 

To wander forth, with me, to mourn law, 

The miseries of Man. That Man was made to mourn. 



A PRATER, IN TEE PROSPECT OF DEATH. 



77 



Look not alone on youthful prime. 

Or manhood's active might; 
]Man then is useful to his kind, 

Supported in his right, 
But see him on the edge of life, 

With cares and sori'ows worn. 
Then age and want, oh ! ill match'd 
pair! 

Show Man was made to mourn. 

A few seem favourites of fate, 

In pleasure's lap carest ; 
Yet, think not all the rich and great 

Are likewise truly blest. 
But, oh ! what crowds in ev'ry land 

Are wretched and forlorn ; 
Thro' weary life this lesson learn. 

That Man was made to mourn. 

Many and sharp the num'rous ills 

Inwoven witli our frame ! 
More pointed still we make ourselves. 

Regret, remorse, and shame ! 
And man, whose heaven-erected face 

The smiles of love adorn, 
Man's inhumanity to man 

Makes countless thousands mourn 1 

8ee yonder poor, o'erlabour'd wight, 

So abject, mean, and vile, 
Who begs a brother of the earth 

To give him leave to toil ; 



And see his lordly fellow- worm 

The poor petition spurn, 
Unmindful, tho' a weeping wife 

And helpless offspring mourn. 

If I'm desigu'd yon lordling's slave. 

By nature's law design'd. 
Why was an independent wish 

E'er planted in my mind? 
If not, why am I subject to 

His cruelty, or scorn? - 
Or why has man the will and pow'i 

To make his fellow mourn ? i 

Yet, let not this too much, my son. 

Disturb thy youthful breast : 
This partial view of humankind 

Is surely not the last ! 
The poor, oppressed, honest man. 

Had never, sure, been born, 
Kad there not been some recompense 

To comfort t-hose that mourn! 

O Death ! the poor man's dearest 
friend. 

The kindest and tlie best! 
Welcome the hour my aged limbs 

Are laid with thee at rest! 
The great, the wealthy, fear thy blow. 

From pomp and pleasures torn; 
But, oh ! a blest relief to those 

That weary-laden mourn! 



A PRAYER, IN THE PROSPECT OF DEATH 



O Tnou unknown. Almighty Cause 

Of all my hope and f«ar! 
In whose dread presence, ere an hour, 

Perhaps I must appear! 

If I have wander'd in those paths 

Of life I ought to shun ; 
As something, loudly in my breast, 

Remonstrates I have done ; 

(Thou know'st that Thou hast form'd 
me. 
With passions wild and strong; 



And list'ning to their witching voice 
Has often led me wrong. 

Where human weakness has come 
short, 

Or frailty stept aside, 
Do Thou, Ail Good ! for such Thou art, 

In shades of darkness hide. 

Where vvith intention I have err'd, 

iS[o other plea I have, 
But, Thou art good ; and 
still 

Pelightetli to forgive. 



78 LINES. 



STANZAS ON THE SAME OCCASIONo 

Why am I loth to leave this earthly scene ? 

Have I so found it full of pleasing charms ? 
Some drops of jo}' with draughts of ill between: 

Some gleams of sunshine 'mid renewing storms ; 
Is it departing pangs my soul alarms ? 

Or Death's unlovely, dreary, dark abode ? 
For guiit, for guilt, my terrors are in arms; 

I tremble to approach an angry God, 
And justly smart beneath His sin-avenging rod. 

Fain would I say, " Forgive my foul ofTence 1" 

Fain promise never more to disobey ; 
But, should my Author health again dispense, 

Again 1 migbt desert fail virtue's way ; 
Again in folly's path might go astray ; 

Again exalt the brute, aiid smk the man ; 
Then how should I for Heavenly mercy pray. 

Who act so counter Heavenly mercy's plan ? 
Who sin so oft have mourn'd, yet to temptation ran ? 

O Thou, great Governor of all below I 

If I may dare a lifted eye to Thee, 
Thy nod can make the t(Mnpest cease to blow. 

And still the tunmlt of the raging sea : 
With that controlling pow'r assist ev'n me. 

Those headlong furious passions to contine, 
For all unfit I feel my powers to be. 

To rule their torrent in th' allowed line ; 
Oh, aid me with Thy help, Omnipotence Divine ! 



LYING AT A REVEREND FRIEND'S HOUSE ONE NIGHT, 

THE AUTHOR LEFT THE FOLLOWING VERSES IN THE ROOM WHERE HE SLEPT. 

O Thoo dread Pow'r, who reign'st Their hope, their stay, their darling 

above, youth, 

I know thou wilt me hear ; In manhood's dawning blusb ; 

,WIien for this scene of peace and love. Bless him, thou God of love and truth. 

I make my pray'r sincere. Up to a parent's wish. 

„, , . ^, . 1 i . The beauteous, seraph sister band, 

The hoary sire-the mortal stroi^e, ^^^^^ ^^^^ ^^^^.^^ 

Long, long, be pleas d to spare ; ^,^ ^^^^,,^^ ^^^^ ^^^^.^^ ^^;^.^.. 1^^^^^^ 

To bless his little filial nock, . __ . . . • » 

And show what good men are. 



Guide Thou their steps alway. 

When soon or late the}" reach that 
She, who her lovely offspring eyes coast. 

With tender hopes and fears, O'er life's rough ocean driven, 

O, bless her with a mother's joys. May they rejoice, no wand'rer lost, 



But spare a rngther's tears 1 , A family in HeaN cu 



SIX VERSES OF THE NINETIETH PSALM. 



79 



THE FIRST PSALM. 



Thf man, in life wherever plac'd, 

H^ith happiness in store, 
Who walks not in the wicked's way, 

Nor learns their guilty lore : 

ITor from the seat of scornful pride 
Casts forth his eyes abroad, 

Silt with liumility and awe 
Still walks before his God. 

Tliat man shall flourish like the trees 
Which by the streamlet grow ; 



The fruitful top is spread on high. 
And firm the root below. 

But he whose blossom buds in guilt 
Shall to the ground be cast. 

And like Ihc rootless stubble tost, ■ 
Before the sweeping blast. 

For why ? tliat God the good adore 
Hath giv'n them peace and rest, 

But iiath decreed that wicked iiiea 
Shall ne'er be truly blest. 



A rRAYER, UNDER THE PRESSURE OF VIOLENT 

A11GUISH. 



O Thou great Being ! what Thou art 

Surpasses me to know : 
Yet sure I am, that known to Thee 

Are all thy works below. 

Thy creature here before Thee stands. 

All wretched and distrest ; 
Yet sure those ills tliat wring my soul 

Obey Thy high behest, 



Sure, Thou, Almighty, canst not act 

From cruelty or wrath ! 
Oh, free my weary eyes from tears, 

Or close them fast in death ! 

But if I must afflicted be, 

To suit some wise design : 
Then, man my soul with Arm rcsoives 

To bear and not repine ! 



THE FIRST SIX VERSES OF THE NINETIETH PSALM. 



O Thou, the first, the greatest frienvi 

Of all the human race ! 
Whose strong right hand has ever been 

Their stay and dwelling-Dlace ! 

iefore the mountains heav'd their 
heads 
Beneath Thy forming hand. 
Before this ponderous globe itself 
Arose at 'Ihj command ; 

That pow'r which rais'd and still up- 
holds 

This universal frame, 
From countless, unbeginning tim.o 

Was ever still the same. 

Those miglity periods of years 
Wliich seem to v& so vast. 



Appear no more before Thy sight 
Than yesterday that's past. , 

Thou giv'st the word ; Thy creature, 
man, 

Is to existence brought ; 
Again Thou say'st, " Ye sons of men, 

"Return ye into nought ! " 

Thou Liycst them, with all their cares, 

In everlasting sleep ; 
As with a flood Thou tak'st them off 

With overwhelming sweep ; 

They flotu-ish like the morning flow'ii 

In beauty's pride array'd ; 
But long ere night cut down it lies 

All wither'd and decay 'd. 



60 



TO TiUTJy, 



TO A MOUNT AIN DAISY, 

ON TTTRNING ONE DOWN WITH THE PLOUGH, IN APRIL, J786. 



Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flow'r, 
Thou's met me in an evil hour ; 
For I maun crush amang the stour« 

Thy slender stem. 
To spare thee now is past my pow'r. 

Thou bonie gem. 

AIns ! it's no thy neebor sweet, 
The bonie Lark, companion meet ! 
Bending thee 'mang the dewy weet ! 

\Vi' sprecki'd breast. 
When upward-springing, blythe, tc 
greet 

The purpling east. 

Cauld blew the bitter-biting north 
Upon thy early, humble birth ; 
Yet cheerfully thou glinted fortli 

Amid the storm, 
Scarce rear'd above the parent-earth 

Thy tender form. 

The flaunting flow'rs our gardens 

yield. 
High shelt'ring woods and wa's maun 

shield. 
But thou, beneath the random bield 

O' clod or stane, 
Adcrr3 the histie stibble-field, 

Unseen, alane. 

There, in thy scanty mantle clad. 
Thy snawie bosom sun-ward spread, 



Thou lifts thy unassuming head 
In humble guise ; 

But now the share uptears thy bed, 
And low thou lies 1 

Such is the fate of artless Inlaid, 
Sweet flow 'ret of the rural shade ! 
By love's simplicity betray'd, 

And guileless trust, 
Till she, like thee, all soil'd, is laid 

Low i' the dust. 

Such is the fate of simple Bard, 

On life's rough ocean luckless starr'd 

Unskilful he to note the card 

Of prudent lore, 
Till billows rage, and gales blow hard, 

And whelm him o'er .' 

Such fate to suffering worth is giv'n, 
Who long with wants and woes hiis 

striv'n. 
By human pride or cunning driv'n 

To mis'ry's brink, 
Till wrench'd of ev'ry stay but Heav'n, 

He, ruin'd, sink ! 

Ev'n thou who mourn'st the Daisy's 

fate, 
That fate is thine— no distant date ; 
Stern Ruin's ploughshare drives, elate. 

Full on thy bloom, 
Till crush'd beneath the furrow's 
weight. 

Shall be thy doom I 



TO KUIK 



All haii ! inexorable lord ! 

i.vt whose destruction-breathing word 

Tho mightiest empires fall ! 
Thy cruel, woe-delighted train, 
I'hc ministers of grief and pain, 

A sullen welcome, all ! 
With stern-resolv'd, despairing eye, 

I see each aimed dart ; 
t'or one has cut my dearest tie, 
And quivers in my heart. 
Then low'ring, and pouring. 

The storm no more 1 dread ; 
Tho' thick'ning and black'ning 
Eound my devoted head, . 



And, thou grim pow'r, by life abhorr'd 
While life a pleasure can afford. 

Oh ! hear a wretch's pray'r ! ! 

No more I shrink appall'd, afraid ; 
I court, I beg thy friendly aid. 

To clo&e this scene of care ! 
When shall my soul, in silent peace. 

Resign life's joyless day ; 
My weary heart its throbbings cease, 
Cold-mould'ring in the clay ? 
'No fear more, no tear more. 
To stain my lifeless face, 
Enclitsped, and grasped 
Within thy cold embrace | 



EPISTLE TO A TOUKQ FRIEND. 



81 



TO MISS LOGAN, WITH BEATTIE'S POEMS, 

FOR A NEW TEAR S GIFT, JANUARY 1, 1787. 



Again the silent ^viieels of time 
Their annual round have driv'n, 

A.nd you tho' scarce in maiden prime. 
Are so much nearer Heav'n. 

^|?> gifts have I from Indian coasts 
Tlie infant year to hail ; 



I send you more than India boasts. 
In Edw in's simple tale. 

Our sex with guile and faithless love 
Is charg'd, perhaps too true ; 

But may, dear Maid, each lover prove 
An Edwin still to 3^0 u ' 



EPISTLE TO A YOUNG FRIEND. 



MAY, 1786. 



I LANG hae thought, my youthfu' 
friend, 

A som.ething to have sent you, 
Tho' it should serve nae ither end 

Than just a kind memento ; 
But how the subject theme may gang, 

l^Jh time and chance determine ; 
Perhaps, it may turn out a sang. 

Perhaps, turn out a sermon. 

Ye'll try the world soon, my lad, 

And, Andrew dear, believe nv 
Ye'll find mankind an unco sqv '., 

And muckle tiiey may grieve ye : 
For care and trouble set your thought, 

Ev'n when your end's attained ; 
And a' your views may come to 
nought. 

Where ev'ry nerve is strained. 

I'll no say, men are villains a' ; 

The real, harden'd wicked, 
Wha hae nae check but human law. 

Are to a few rcstricked ; 
B'ut Och ! mankind are unco weak, 

An' little to be trusted ; 
\i self the wavering balance shake, 

It's rarely right adjusted I 

Yet they wha fa' in fortune's strife, 

Their fate we should na censure, 
For still tli' important end of life 

They equally may answer ; 
A man may hae an honest heart, 

Tho' poortith hourly stare him ; 
k- man may tak a neebor's part, 

yet h,ae nae cas.h to spare hiio- 



Aye, free, aff han* your story tell, 

AVhen wi' a bosom crony ; 
But still keep something to yoursel 

Ye scarcely tell to ony ; 
Conceal yoursel as vreel's ye can 

Frae critical dissection ; 
But keek thro' ev'ry otiier man, 

Wi' sharpen'd, sly inspection. 

The sacred lowe 0' w^el-plac'd love. 

Luxuriantly indulge it ; 
But never tempt th' illicit rove, 

Tho' naethir.g sl-ould divulge it; 
I wave the quantum o' the sin, 

The hazard o' concealing ; 
But Och 1 it hardens a' wiUiin, 

And petrifies the feeling I 

To catch dame Fortune's golden smile 

Assiduous wait upon her ; 
And gather gear by ev'ry wile 

That's jusl^ify'd by honour ; 
Nor for to hide it in a hedge, 

Not for a train attendant; 
But for the glorious privilege 

Of being independent. 

The fear o' hell's a hangman's whip, 

To baud the wu-etcli in order ; 
But where ye feel your honour grip, 

Let that aye be your border : 
Its slightest touches, instant pause— 

Debar a' side pretences ; 
And resolutely keep its laws, 

Xlnoirmg consequenci^. 



82 



ON A SCOTCH BARD, GONE TO THE WEST INDIES. 



Tlie great Creator to revere, 

Must sure become the creature ; 
But still the preaching cant forbear, 

And ev'n the rigid feature : 
Yet ne'er with wits pi'ofane to range, 

Be complaisance extended ; 
An Atheist-laugh's a poor exchange 

For Deity offended ! 

When ranting round in pleasure's 
ring, 

Religion may be blinded ; 
Or if she gie a random sting. 

It may be little minded ; 



But when on life we're tempest driy'tt 
A conscience but a canker — 

A correspondence fix'd wi' Heaven 
Is sure a noble anchor ! 

Adieu, dear, amiable Youth ! 

Your heart can ne'er be wanting 1 
May prudence, fortitude, and I ruth, 

Erect your brow undaunting ! 
In ploughman phrase, " God send you 
speed," 

Still daily to grow wiser ; 
And may ye better reck the rede, 

Than ever did th' Adviser ! 



ON A SCOTCH BARD, GONE TO THE WEST INDIES. 



A' YE wha live by sowps o' drink, 
A' ye wha live by crambo-clink, 
A' ye wha live an' never think. 

Come mourn wi' me ! 
Our billie's gi'en us a jink, 

An' owre the sea. 

Lament iiim a' ye rantin core, 
Wha dearly like a random-splore, 
Nae mair he'll join the merry roar. 

In social key ; 
For now lie's taen anither shore. 

An' owre the sea 1 

The bonie lasses weel may wiss him. 
And in their dear petitions place him ; 
The widows, wives, an' a' may bless 
him, 

Wi' tearf u' e'e ; 
For weel I wat they'll sairly miss him 

That's owre the sea ! 

O fortune, they hae room to grumble! 
Hadst thou taen aff some drowsy 

bummle, 
Wha can do nought but fyke an' 
fumble, 

'Twad been nae plea ; 
But he was gleg as ony wumble, 

That's owre the sea ! 

Auld, cantie Kyle may w^eepers wear, 
An' stain them wi' the saat, saut tear : 
•Twill make her poor, }.,uld heart, I 
fear, 

In flinder3 flee ; 
He was her Laureat monie a year 

Ths-Vs owre the sea I 



He saw misfortune's cauld nor-west 
Lang mustering up a bitter blast ; 
A jillet brak his heart at last, 

111 may she be ! 
So, took a berth afore the mast. 

An' owre the sea. 

To tremble under Fortune's cummock. 
On scarce a belly fu' o' drummock, 
Wi' his proud, independent stomach, 

Could ill agree ; 
So, row't his hurdles in a hammock, 

An' owre the sea. 

He ne'er w^as gi'en to great mis- 

guidin', 
Y'et coin his pouches wad na bid** 

in ; 
Wi' him it ne'er was under hidin*. 

He dealt it free : 
The Muse w^as a' that he took pride in. 
That's owre the sea. 

Jamaica bodies, ur,e him weel. 
An' hap him in a cozie biel ; 
Y^e'll find him ay' a dainty chiel, 

And fu' o' glee ; 
He wad na wrang'd the vera dcil, 

That's owre the sea. 

Farewell, my rhyme-composing billie 
Your native soil v/as right ill-willie ; 
But may ye flourish like a lily, 

IN'ow bonilie ! 
I'll toast ye in my hindmost gillie 

The' owre the sea k 



A DEDICATION TO GAVIN HAMILTON, ESQ. 



83 



TO A ;^-IAGGIS. 



Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face 
Great chieftain o' tlie puddin-race ! 
Aboon them a' ye tak your place, 

Painch, tripe, or thairm: 
Weel are ye wordy o' a grace 

As lang's my arm. 

The groaning trencher there ye fill, 
Your hurdles like a distant hill. 
Your pin wad help to mend a mill 

In time o' need, 
While thro' your pores the dews distil 

Like amber bead. 

His knife see rustic labour dight. 
An' cut 3^ou up wi' ready slight, 
Trenching your gushing entrails bright 

Like onie ditch ; 
And then, what a glorious sight, 

Warm-reekin, rich 1 

Then, Iiorn for horn they stretch an' 

strive, 
Deil tak the hindmost, on they drive. 
Till a' their weel-swall'd kytes belyv3 

Are bent like drums ; 
Then auld guidman, maist like to rive, 

Bethankit hums. 



Is there that o'er his French ragout, 
Or olio that wad staw a sow. 
Or fricassee wad mak her spew 

Wi' perfect sconner. 
Looks down wi' sneering, scornftf 
view 

On sic a dinner ', 

Poor devil ! see him owre his trash. 
As feckless as a wither'd rash, 
His spindle shank a guid whip Jash, 

His nieve a nit : 
Thro' bloody flood or field to dash, 

O how unfit ! 

But mark the rustic, haggis-fed. 
The trembling earth resounds his 

tread. 
Clap in his walie nieve a ^lade, 

He'll rau,K it whissle ; 
An' legs, an' arms, an' heads will sned. 

Like taps o' thrissle. 

Ye Pow'rs, v/ha mak mankind yoi;i 

care> 
And dish them out their bill o' fare, 
Auld Scotland warts nae stinking ware 
That jaups in higgles : 
But, if you want her gratefu' prayer. 
Gie her a Haggis i 



A DEDICATIOISJ" TO GAYIK HAMILTON", ESQ. 



Expect na. Sir, in this narration, 
A fleechin, fieth'rin Dedication, 
To roose you up, an' ca' you guid, 
An' sprung o' great an' noble bluid, 
Because ye're sirnam'd like his Grace, 
Perhaps related to the race ; 
Then when I'm tir'd — and sae are ye, 
Wi' mony a fulsome, sinfu' lie. 
Set up a face, how I stop short, 
For fear your modesty be hurt. 

This may do — maun do. Sir, wi' 

them wha 
Maun please the great folk for a wame- 

fou ; 
For me ! sae laigh I needna bow, 
For, Lord be thankit, I can plough ; 
And v/hen I downa yoke a naig. 
Then, Lord be thankit, I can beff : 



Sae I shall say, an' that's nae flatfrin^ 
Its just sic Poet an' sic Patron. 

The Poet, some guid angel help him. 
Or else, I fear, some ill ane skelp him ! 
He may do weel for a' he's done yet. 
But only — he's no just begun yet. 

The Patron (Sir, ye maun forgie me 
I winna lie, come what will o' me). 
On ev'ry hand it will allow'd be. 
He's just — nae better than he sh&ula 
be. 

I readily and freely grant. 
He downa see a poor man want 
What's no his ain he winna tak it, 
What ance he says he winna break ii- 
Ought he can lend he'll not refus't, 
Till aft ids guidness is abus'd } 



84 



A DEDIGATIOK TO GATIN HAMILTON, ESQ. 



And rascals whyles that do him wn.: g, 
Ev'n that, he does na niind it lang : 
As master, hmdlord, husband, father. 
He docs na fail his part in either. 

But then, nae thanks to him for a' 
. that ; 
Nae godly symptom ye can ca' that ; 
It's naething but a milder feature 
Of our poor, sinfu', corrupt nature : 
Ye'll get the best o' moral works, 
'Mang bliick Gcnloos and Pagan 

Turks, 
Or hunters wild on Ponotaxi, 
Wha never heard of orthodoxy. 
That he's the poor man's friend in need, 
The gentleman in word and deed, 
It's no thro' terror of damnation ; 
It's just a carnal inclination. 

Morality, thou deadly bane, 
Thy tens o' thousands thou hast slain ! 
Vain is his hope, whase stay a^'d 

trust is 
In moral mercy, truth, and justice < 

No— stretch a point to catch a plack ; 
Abuse a brother to his back ; 
Steal thro' the winnock frae a whore 
But point that rake that taks the door : 
Be to the poor like onie wdiunstane, 
And baud their noses to the grunstane, 
Ply ev'ry art, o' legal thieving ; 
No matter, stick to sound believing. 

Learn three-mile pray'rs, an' half- 
mile graces, 
Wi' weel-spread looves, an' lang, wry 

faces ; 
Grunt up a solemn, lengthcn'd groan, 
And damn a' parties but your own ; 
I'll w^arrant then, ye'ro nae deceiver, 
A steady, sturdy, staunch behever. 

O ye wha leave the springs of Calvin, 
For gumlie dubs of jowv ain delvin ! 
Ye sons of heresy and error, 
Ye'll some day squeel in quaking 

terror ! 
"When vengeance drav/s the sword in 

wrath. 
And in the fire throws the sheath ; 
When Ruin, with his sweeping besom, 
Just frets till Heav'n commission gies 



"While o'er the harp pale misr'y 

moans. 
And strikes the ever-deep'nii:g tones. 
Still louder shrieks, and heavier 

groans ! 

Your pardon, Sir, for this digression 
I iraist forgat my Dedication ; 
T> -J when divinity comes 'cross me. 
My readers still arc sure to lose me. 

So, Sir, ye see 'twas nae daft vapour, 
But I maturely thought it proper, 
"When a' my works I did re\ iew, 
To dedicate them, Sir, to You : 
Because (ye need na tak it ill) 
I thought them something like yoursel. 

Then patronize them wd' your 

favour. 
And your petitioner shall ever — 
I had amaist said, ever pray : 
But that's a word I need na say ; 
For prayin I hae little skill o't ; 
I'm baith dead-sweer, an' wretched 

ill o't ; 
But I'se repeat each poor man's pray'r, 
That kens or hears about you. Sir. — 

" May ne'er misfortune's gowling 

bark 
Howl thro' the dwelling o' the Clerk ! 
May ne'er his gen'rous, honest* heart, 
For that same gen'rous spirit smart ! 
IMay Kennedy's far-honourd name 
Lang beet his hymeneal tlame, 
Till Hamiltons, at least a dizen. 
Are frae their nuptial labours risen : 
Five bonie lasses round their table, 
And seven braw fellows, stout an' able 
To serve their King and Country weel, 
By word, or pen, or pointed steel ! 
May health and peace, with mutual 

rays, 
Shine on the evening o' his days ; 
Till his wee, curlie John's ier-oe, 
"When ebbing life nae mair shall fiow„ 
The last, sad, mournful rites bestow 1 " 

I will not wind a lang conclusion, 
Wi' complimentary eifusion : 
But whilst your wishes and en. 

deavours 
Are blest with Fortune's smiles and 

favours, 
I am, dear Sir, with zeal most fervent, 
your inuch indebted, humble servant 



ADDRESS TO EDmBURGH. 



85 



But if (which Pow'rs above prevent) 
That iron-hearted carl, Want, 
Attended in his grim advances, 
By sad mistakes, and black mis- 
chances, 
While hopes, and joys, and pleasures 

fly him. 
Make you as poor a dog as I am.. 
Your humble servant then no more ; 
For who would humbly serve the poor? 



Buf., by a poor man's hopes in Heav'n\ 
Vv'hile recollection's pow'r is given. 
If, m the vale of humble life, 
The victim sad of fortune s strife, 
I, thro' the tender gushing tear. 
Should recognise my Master d^ar, 
If friendless, low, we meet together 
The-i, Sir, your hand— m.y Friend ana 
Brother 1 



TO A LOUSE, ON SEEING ONE ON A LADY'S BONNET, 

AT CHURCH. 



Ha I whare yegaun, ye crowlin ferlie ! 
Your impudence protects you sairly : 
I canna say but ye strunt rarely, 

O.vre gauze and lace ; 
Tho' faith, I fear ye dine but sparely 

On sic a place. 

Ye uglj', crcepin, blastit wonner, 
Detested, shunn'd by saunt an' sinner, 
How dare ye set your iit upon her, 

Sae fine a lady ! 
Oae somewhere else, and seek your 
dinner 

On some poor body. 

Swith, in some beggar's haffet 

squattle ; 
There ye may creep, and sprawl, and 

sprattle 
Wi' ither kindred, jumping cattle. 
In shoals and nations ; 
Whare horn nor bane ne'er dare un- 
settle 
. Your thick plantations. 

Xow baud ye there, ye're out o' sight. 
Below the fatt'rels, snug an' tight ; 
Na, faith ye yet ! ye'll no be right 
Till ye've got on it, 



The vera tapmost, tow'ring height 
O' Miss's bonnet. 

My sooth ! right bauld ye set your 

nose out. 
As plump and gray as onie grozet ; 

for some rank, mercurial rozet. 

Or fell, red smeddum, 
I'd gie you sic a hearty doze o't. 

Wad dress your droddum I 

1 wad na been surpris'd to spy 
You on an auld wife's flainen toy ; 
Or aiblins-some bit duddie boy, 

On's wyliecoat ; 
But Miss's tine Lunardi ! fie, 
How daur ye dot ? 

O, Jenny, dinna toss your head. 
An' set your beauties a' abread ! 
Ye little ken what cursed speed 

The beastie's makin ! 
Thae winks and finger-ends, I dread, 

Are notice takin ! 

O w^ad some Pow'r the giftie gie us 

To see oursels as others see us ! 

It wad frae monie a blunder free us 

And foolish notion : 
What airs in dress an' gait wad lea'e us, 

And ev'n Devotion ! 



ADDRESS TO EDINBURGH. 



Edina ! Scotia's darling seat ! 

Ail hail thy palaces and tow'rs, 
Where once beneath a monarch's feet 

Sat Legislation's sov'reign pow'rs 1 



From marking wildly scatter'd fiow'rs. 

As on the banks of Ayr I stray'd, 
And singing, lone, the ling'ring hours^ 

I shelter in thy honour'd shade. 



86 



EPISTLE TO JOim LAPRAIK. 



Here Wealth still swells the golden 
tide, 

x^s busy Trade his labours plies; 
There Arcliitccture's noble pride 

Bids elegance and splendour rise ; 
Here Justice, from her native skies, 

High wields her balance and lier rod; 
'There Learning with his eagle eyes, 

Seeks Science in her coy abode. 

Thy sons, Edina, social, kind. 

With open arms the stranger hail ; 
Their views enlarg'd, their lib'ral 
mind. 

Above the narrow, rural vale ; 
Attentive still to sorrow's wail. 

Or modest merit's silent claim : 
And never may their sources fail ! 

And never envy blot their name ! 

Thy daughters bright thy walks 
adorn. 

Gay as the gilded summer sky, 
Sweet as the dewy milk-white thorn, 

Dear as tlie raptur'd thrill of joy : 
Fair Burnet strikes th' adoring eye. 

Heaven's beauties on my fancy 
shine ; 
I see the Sire of Love on high. 

And own his work indeed divine ! 

There watching high the least alarms. 

Thy rough, rude fortress gleiims 

afar ; 

Like some bold vet'ran, gray in arms, 

And mark'd with many a seamy 

scar ; 



The pond'rous wall and massy bar. 
Grim-rising o'er the rugged rock^ 

Have oft withstood assailing war. 
And oft repell'd th' invader's shock. 

With awe-struck thought, and pitying 
tears, 

I view that noble, stately dome, 
Where Scotia's kings of other years, 

Fam'd heroes, had their royal l;oni;\ 
Alas, how chang'd the times to come i 

Their roj^al name low in the dust ! 
Their hapless race wild-wand'ring 
roam ! 

Tho rigid law cries out, 'twas just ! 

Wild beats my heart, to trace your 

steps. 
Whose ancestors, in days of yore, 
Thro' hostile ranks and ruin'd gap.9 

Old Scotia's bloody lion bore ; 
Ev'n I who sing in rustic lore. 

Haply my sires liiive left their 
shed, 
And fac'd grim danger's loudest 
roar. 
Bold-following wliere your fathers 
led! 

Edina ! Scotia's darling seat ! 

All hail thy palaces nnd tow'rs. 
Where once beneath a monarch's feet 

Sat Legislation's sov'reign pow'rs ! 
From marking wildly-scatter'd tiow'rs. 

As on the banks of Ayr I stray 'd, 
And singing, lone, the ling'ring hours, 

I shelter in thy honour'd shade. 



Ej-ISTLE to JOHN LAPRAIK, AN OLD SCOTTISH HARD. 

April 1, 1785. 



While briers an' woodbines budding 

green, 
An' paitricks scraichin loud at e'en, 
An' morning poussie whiddin seen. 

Inspire my Muse, 
This freedom, in an unknown f rien', 

I pray excuse. 

On Fasten-een we had a rockin. 

To ca' the crack and weave our stock 

in ; 
And there was muckle fun and jokin. 
Ye need na' doubt ; 



At length we had a hearty yokin 
At sang about. 

There was ae sang, amang the rest, 
Aboon them a' it pleas'd me best, 
That some kind husband had addrest 

To some sweet wife : 
It thirl'd the heart-strings thro' the 
breast, 

A' to the life. 

I've scarce heard ought describ'd sae 

weel. 
What gen'rous, manly bosoms feel 



BPISTLB ro JOHN LAPBAiK. 



Sir 



Thought I, '* Can this be Pope, or 
Steele, 

Or Beattic's wark ! " 
The}" told me 'twas an odd kind chiel 

About Muirkirk. 

It pat me fidgin-fain to liear't. 
And sae about him there I spier't ; 
The n a' that ken'd him round declar'd 

He had ingine, 
That name exeell'd it, few cam near't, 

it was sae fine. 

That, set him to a pint of ale, 

An" either douce or merry tale. 

Or rhymes aii' sangs he d made himse.', 

Or witty catches, 
'Twcen Inverness and Tiviotdale, 

He had few matches. 

Then up I gat, an' swoor an aitli, 
Tho' I should pawn my pleugh and 

gvaitli, 
Or Uie a cadger pownie's death, 

At some dyke-back, 
A pint an' gill I'd gie them baith 

To hear your crack. 

But, first an' foremost, I should tell, 
Amaist as soon as I could spell, 
1 to the crambo-jingle fell, 

Tho' rude an' rough 
Yet crooning to a body's set. 

Does weel enough. 

I am nae Poet, in a sense, 

But just a Rliymer, like, by chance, 

An' iiae to learning nae pretence, 

Yet, what the matter ? 
Whene'er my Muse does on me glance, 

I jingle at her. 

Your critic-folk may cock their nose. 
And say, " How can you e'er propose. 
You wha ken hardly verse frae prose, 

To mak a sang ? " 
But, by your leaves, my learned foes, 

Ye're maybe wrang. 

What's a' your jargon o' your schools. 
Your Latin names for horns an' stools; 
If honest nature made you fools, 

What sairs your grammars ? 
Ye'd better ta'en up spades and shools. 

Or knappin-hammers. 



A set o' dull, conceited hashes, 
Confuse their brains in college classes ! 
They gang in stirks, and come out 
asses, 

Plain truth to speak ; 
An' syne they think to climb Parnassus 

By dint o' Greek ! 

Gie me ae spark o' Nature's fire, 
That's a' the learning I desire ; 
Then tho' I drudge thro' dub an' mire 

At pleugh or cart, 
My Muse, though liamely in attire. 

May touch the heart. 

for a spunk o' Allan's glee, 

Or Ferguson's, the bauld an' slee. 
Or bright Lapraik's, my friend to be, 

If I can hit it ! 
That would be lear eneugh for me. 

If I could get it. 

Now, Sir, if ye hae friends enow, 
Tho' real friends, 1 b'lieve, are few, 
Yet, if your catalogue be fou, 

I'se no insist. 
But gif ye want ne friend that's true, 

I'm on your list. 

1 winna blaw about mysel. 
As ill I like my fauts to tell ; 

But friends, an' folks that wish me 
w^ell, 

They sometimes roose me ; 
Tho' I maun own, as monie still 

As far abuse me. 

There's ae wee. faut they whyles lay 

to me, 
I like the lasses — Gude forgie me ! 
For monie a plack they wheedle frae 
me. 

At dance or fair ; 
Maybe some ither thing they gie me 
They w^el can spare. 

But jMauchline race, or Mauchline fair, 
I should be proud to meet you there; 
We"se gie ae night's discharge to care, 

If we forgather, 
An' hae a swap o' rhymin-ware 

Wi' ane anither. 



To THE SAME. 



The four-gill chap, we'se gar him 

clatter, 
.in' kirsen him wi' reekin watev 
Syne we'll sit down an' tak our 
whitter. 

To cheer our heart ; 
An' faith, we'se be acquainted better 
Before we part. 

t Awa, ye selfish, warly race, 
Wlia think that havins, sense, an' 

grace, 
Ev'n love an' friendship, should give 
place 

To catch-the-plack I 
I dinna like to see your face, 

Nor hear your crack. 



But ye whom social pleasJure charms, 
Whose hearts the tide of kindness 

warms, 
"VVho ])old your being on the terms, 
"Each aid the others," 
Come to my bowl, come to my 
arms. 

My friends, my brothers ' 

But to conclude my lang epistle. 
As my auld pen's worn to the 

grissle ; 
Twa lines frae you wad ^ar me 
lissle, 

"Who am, most fervent, 
"While I can either sing, or whissle. 
Your friend and servant 



TO THE SAME. 

APi.IL 21, 1785. 



"While new-ca'd kye rowte at the 

stake, 
An' pownies reck in pleugh or braik, 
This hour on e'enin's edge I take. 

To own I'm debtor, 
To honest-hearted, auld Lapraik, 

For his kind letter. 

Forjesket sair, witli weary legs, 
Rattlin the corn out-owre the rigs, 
Or dealing tbro' amang the naigs 

Their ten-hours' bite. 
My awkart Muse sair pleads and begs, 

I would na write. 

The tapetless, ramfeezl'd hizzie. 
She's saft at best, and something lazy. 
Quo' she, "Ye ken, we've been sae 
busy, 

This month an' mair. 
That troth my head is grown quite 
dizzie. 

An' something sair." 

Her dowff excuses pat me mad ; 
"Conscience," says I, "Ye thowless 

jad ! 
I'll write, an' that a hearty blaud, 

This verra night ; 
So dinna ye affront your trade, 

But rhyme it right- 



"Shall bauld Lapraik, the king o' 

hearts, 
Tho' mankind were a pack o' cartes, 
Roose you sae weel for your deserts, 

In terms sae friendly, 
Yet ye'll neglect to shaw your parts, 

An' thank him kindly 1 " 

Sae I gat paper in a blink. 

An' down gaed stumpie in the ink : 

Quoth I, " Before I sleep a wink, 

I vow I'll close it ; 
An' if ye winna mak it clink. 

By Jove I'll prose it 1 " 

Sae I've begun to scrawl, but whethei 
In rhyme, or prose, or baith thegither, 
Or some hotch-potch that's rightl}) 
neither. 

Let time mak proof ; 
But I shall scribble down some blethef 
Just clean aff-loof. 

My worthy friend, ne'er grudge an' 

carp 
Tho' fortune use you hard and sharp ; 
Come, kittle up your moorland harp 

"Wi' gleesome touch ! 
Ne'er mind how fortune waft an' 
warp ; 

She's btt a bitch. 



TO WILLIAM SniPSON, 



m 



She's glen me moxjie a iirt an' tieg, 
Siu' I could strMdle owre a rig ; 
But, by the Lora, tiio' I should beg 

Wi' Ij^art pow, 
I'll laugh, an' sing, an' shake my leg. 

As iang's I dow 1 

Kow comes the sax an' twentieth 

simmer, 
I've seen the bud upo' the timmer, 
Still persecuted by the limmer 

Frae year to year : 
But yet, despite the kittle kimmer, 

I, Rob, am here. 

Do ye envy the city Gent. 

Behind a kist to lie an' sklent, 

Or purse-proud, big wi' cent per cent ; 

K\\ muckle wame. 
In some bit Brugh to represent 

A Bailie s name ? 

Of is 't the paughty, feudal Thane, 
Wi' ruffl'd sark an' glancing cane, 
SSflvd thinks himsel nae sheep-shank 
bane. 

But lordly stalks. 
While caps and bonnets atf are taen, 
As by he walks ? 

" O Thou wha gives us each guid gift [ 

Gie me o' wit an' sense a lift. 

Then turn me, if Thou please, adrift. 

Thro' Scotland wide ; 
Wi' cits nor lairds I wadna shift. 

In a' their piide ! " 



Were this the charter of our state, 
" On pain o' hell be rich an' great,'* 
Damnation then would be our f;ite. 

Beyond remead ; 
But, thanks to Heaven ! that's no the 
gate 

We learn our creed. 

For thus the royal mandate ran. 
When first the human race began, 
" The social, friendly, honest man, 

Whate'er he be, 
'Tis he fulfils great Nature's plan. 

And none but he ! " 

O mandate glorious and divine ! 
The followers of the ragged Nine, 
Poor, thoughtless devils ! yet may 
shine 

In glorious light. 
While sordid sons of Mammon's line 

Are dark as night. 

Tho' here they scrape, an' squeeze, an' 

growl. 
Their worthless nievef u' of a soul 
May in some future carcase howl. 
The forest's fright ; 
Or in some day-detesting owl 

May shun the light. 

Then may Lapraik and Burns arise. 
To reach their native, kindred skies, 
And sing their pleasures, hopes, an' 
joys. 

In some mild sphere. 
Still closer knit in friendship's ties 

Each passing year ! 



TO WILLIAM SIMPSON, 

OCHILTREE. 



May, 1785. 



T SAT your letter, winsome Willie ; 
vVi' gratefu' heart I thank you 

brawlie ; 
Tho' I maun say't, I wad be silly. 

An' unco vain. 
Should I believe, my coaxin billie, 

Your flatterin strain. 

But I'se believe ye kindly meant it, 
I sud be laith to 'think ye hinted 
Ironic satire, sidelins sklented 

^ On my poor Musie ; 
Tho' in sic phrasin terms ye've 
penn'd it, 

I scarce excuse ye. 



My senses wad be in a creel, 
Should I but dare a hope to speel, 
Wi' Allan, or wi' Gilbertfield, 

The braes o' fame ; 
Or Ferguson, the writer-chiel, 

A deathless name. 

(O Ferguson ! thy glorious parts 
111 suited law's dry, musty arts ! 
My curse upon your whunstane 
hearts, 

Ye Enbrugh Gentry i 
The tytlie o' what ye waste at 
cartes 

Wad stow'd his pantry ^ 



90 



TO WILLIAM SIMPSOm 



Yet when a tale comes i' my head,. 
Or lassies gie my heart a screed, 
As whiles they're like to be my dead. 

(b sad disease !) 
1 kittle up my rustic reed ; 

It gies me ease. 

Auld Ccila, now, may fidge fu' fain, 

She's gotten Poets o' her ain, 

Chiels wha their chanters winna hain. 

But tune their lays. 
Till echoes a' lesouud again 

Her weel-sung praise. 

Nae Poet thought her worth his while. 
To set her name in measur'd style ; 
She lay like some unkeud-of isle. 

Beside New Holland, 
Or where wild-meeting oceans boil 

Besouth Magellan. 

Ramsay an' famous Ferguson 
Gied Forth an' Tay a lift aboon ; 
Yarrow an' Tweed, to mony a tune, 

Owre Scotland's rings, 
While Irwin, Lugar, Ayr, an' Doon, 

Naebody sings. 

Th' Ilissus, Tiber, Thames, an' Seine, 
Glide sweet in mony a tunefu' line ! 
But, Willie, set your fit to mine. 

An' cock 3'our crest. 
We'll gar our streams an' burnies 
shine 

Up wi' the best. 

We'll sing auld Coila's plains an' fells. 
Her moors red-brown wi' heather bells. 
Her banks an' braes, her dens an' dells, 

Where glorious Wallace 
Aft bure the gree, as story tells, 

Frae Southron billies. 

At Wallace' name, what Scottish blood 
But boils up in a spring-tide flood ! 
Oft have our fearless fathers strode 

By Wallace' side, 
Still pressing onward, red-wat shod. 
Or glorious dy'd. 

0, sweet are Coila's haughs an' woods, 
^hen lintwhites chant amang the 

buds, 
And jinkin hares, in amorous whids. 

Their loves enjoy. 
While thro' the braes the cushat 
croods 

Wi' wailf u' ciy I 



Ev'n winter bleak has charms to me 
When winds rave thro' the naked tree; 
Or frosts on hills of Ochiltree 

Are hoary gray ; 
Or blinding drifts wild-furious flee, 

Dark'ning the day ! 

O Nature ! a' thy shews an' forms 
To feeling, pensive hearts liae charms', 
Whether the sunnner kindl}^ warms, 

Wi' life an' light. 
Or winter howls, in gusty storms, 

The laug, dark night ! 

The muse, na Poet ever fand her, 
Till by himsel he learn'd to wander, 
Adown some trottin burn's meander, 

An' no think lang ; 
O sweet, to stray an' pensive ponder 

A heart-felt sang ! 

The warly race may drudge an' drive, 
Hog-shouther, jundie, stretch, an' 

strive. 
Let me fair Nature's face descrive. 

And I, wi' pleasure, 
Shall let the busy, grumbling hive 

Bum owre their treasure. 

Fareweel, "my rhyme-composing 

brither ! " 
We've been owre lang unkenn'd to 

ither : 
Now let us lay our heads thegither. 

In love fraternal : 
May Envy wallop in a tether. 

Black fiend, infernal 1 

While Highlandmen hate tolls an' 

taxes ; 
While moorlan' herds like guid, fat 

braxies ; 
While Terra Firma, on her axis, 

Diurnal turns. 
Count on a friend, in faith an' practice. 
In Robert Burns. 



POSTSCRIPT. 

My memory's no worth a preen ; 

I had amaist forgotten clean. 

Ye bade me write you what tiiey mean 

By this New-Light, 
'Bout which our herds sae aft have 
been 

Maist like to fight. 



TO WILLIAM SIMPSON. 



n 



lu days when mankind were but 

calkins 
At grammar, logic, an' sic talents, 
They took nae pains their speech to 
balance, 

Or rules to gie, 
But spak their thoughts in plain, braid 
Lallans, 

Like 3^ou or rne. 

In thae auld times, they thought the 

moon. 
Just like a sark, or pair o' shoon, 
Wore b} degrees, till her last roon, 

Gaed past their viewin. 
An' shortly after she was done. 

They gat a new one. 

This past for certain, undisputed ; 
It ne'er cam i' their heads to doubt it, 
Till chiels gat up an' wad confute it. 

An' ca'd it wrang ; 
An' muckle din there was about it. 

Both loud an' lang. 

Some herds, weel learn'd upo' the 

beuk, 
Wad threap auld fcilk the thing mis- 

teuk ; 
For 'twas the auld moon turn'd a neuk. 

An out o' sight, 
An' backlins-comin, to the leuk. 

She grew mair bright. 

This was deny'd, it was affirm'd ; 
The herds an' hissels were alarm'd : 
The rev'rend gray-beards rav'd an' 
storm'd, 

That beardless laddies 
Should think they better were in- 
form'd 

Than their auld daddies. 

Frae less to mair it gaed to sticks ; 
Frae words an' aiths to clours an 

nicks ; 
An' monie a fallow gat his licks, 

Wi' hearty crunt ; 
An' some, to learn them for their 
tricks, 

Were hans'd an' brunt. 



This game was play'd in monie lands. 
An' auld-light caddies bure sic hands, 
That, faith, the youngsters took the 
sands 

Wi' nimble shanks. 
The lairds forbad, by strict com- 
mands, 

Sic bluidy pranks. 

But new-light herds gat sic a cowe; 
Folk thought them ruin'd stick-an- 

stowe, 
Till now amaist on ev'ry knowe 

Ye'll find ane plac'd ; 
An' some, their new-light fair avow. 

Just quite barefac'd. _. 

Nae doubt the auld-light flocks are 

bleatin ; 
Their zealous herds are vex'd an' 

sweatin ; 
Mysel, I've even seen them greetin 

W^i' giruin spite. 
To hear the moon sae sadly He'd on 
By word an' write. 

But shortly they will cowe the louns I 
Some auld-light herds in neebor towns 
Are mind't, in things they call bal- 
loons. 

To tak a flight, 
An' stay ae month amang the moons. 

An' see them right. 

Guid observation they will gie them ; 
An' when the auld moon's gauti to 

lea'e them, 
The hindmost shaird, they l\ fetch it 
wi' them. 

Just i' their pouch. 
An' when the new-light billies se© 
them, 

I think they'll crouch ! 

Sae, ye observe that a' this clatter 
Is naething but a "moonshine 

matter "; 
But tho' dull-prose folk Latin splatter 

In logic tulzie, 
I hope, we Bardies ken some better 

Than mind sic brulzia 



H 



EPISTLE TO JOHN RANKTNB. 



EPISTLE TO JOHN RANKINE, 



ENCLOSING SOME POEMS. 



O Rough, rude, ready-witted Ran- 

kiiie, 
1 riie wale o' cocks for fun an' drinkin ! 
' There's monie godly folks are tliinkin, 

Your dreams an' tricks 
Will send you, Korah-like, a-sinkin, 
Straught to auld Nick's. 

Ye hae sae monie cracks an' cants, 
And in your wicked, druken rants. 
Ye make a devil o' the saunts. 

An' till them fou ; 
And then their failings, flaws, an' 
wants, 

Are V seen thro'. 

Hypocrisy, in mercy spare it ! 
That holy robe, O dinna tear it ! 
Spare 't for their sakes wha aften 
wear it. 

The lads in black ; 
But your curst wit, when it comes 
near it, 

Rives't aff their back. 

Think, wicked sinner, wha ye're 

skaithing, 
It's just the blue-gown badge an' 

claithing 
O' saunts ; tak that, ye lea'e them 
naithiug 

To ken them by, 
Frae ony unregenerate heathen 
Like you or I. 

I've sent you here some rhyming ware, 
A' that I bargain'd for, an' mair ; 
Sae, when ye hae an hour to spare, 

I will expect, 
Yon sang, ye'll sen't, wi' cannie care. 

And no neglect. 

Tho', faith, sma' heart hae I to sing 1 
My Muse dow scarcely spread her 

wing I 
I've play'd mysel a bonie spring, 
An' danc'd my fill I 
I'd better gaen an' sair't the king 
At Bunker's Hill. 



'Twas ae night lately, in my fun, 

I gaed a roving wi' the gun. 

An' brought a paitrick to the grun, 

A bonie hen, 
And, as the twilight was begun. 

Thought nane wad kea, 

The poor, wee thing was little hurt ; 

I straikit it a wee for sport. 

Ne'er thinkin they wad fasli mc for't ; 

But, Deil-nia-care ! 
Somebody tells the poacher-court 

The hale aliair. 

Some auld, us'd hands had ta'en a 

note, 
That sic a hen had got a shot ; 
I was suspected for the ])lot ; 

I scoru'd to lie ; 
So gat the whissle o' my groat. 

An' pay't the fee. 

But, by my gun, o' guns the wale, 
An' by my pouther an' my hail, 
An' by my hen, an' by her tail, 

I vow an' swear ! 
The game shall pay, o'er moor an' dale, 

For this, niest year. 

As soon's the clockin-time is by. 
An' the wee pouts begun to cry. 
Lord, I'se hae sportin by an' by. 

For my gowd guinea : 
Tho' I should herd the buckskin kyc 

For't, in Virginia. 

Trowth, they had muckle for to blame J 
'Twas neither broken wing nor limb, 
But tv,'a-three draps about the wame 

Scarce thro' the feathers ; 
An' baith a yellow George to claim, 

An' thole their blethers I 

It pits me aye as mad's a hare ; 
So I can rhj-me nor write nae mair ; 
But pennyworths again is fair. 

When time's expedient: 
Meanwhile I am, respected Sir, 

Your most obedient. 



WRITTEN IN FlilARS-CJ-BSE HERMITAGE. 



93 



WRITTEN IN FRIARS-CARSE HERMITAGE, 



ON NITH-SIDE. 



Thou whom chance may hither lead, 
Be tJiou clad in russet weed. 
Be thou deckt in silken stole. 
Grave these counsels on thy soul. 

Life is but a day at most, 
Sprung from night, in darkness lost ; 
Hope not sunshine ev'ry hour, 
Fear not clouds will alv»'ays lour. 
As Youth and Love, with sprightly 

dance, 
Beneath thy morning star advance, 
Pleasure with her syren air 
May delude the thoughtless pair ; 
Let Prudence bless Enjoyment's cup. 
Then raptur'd sip, and sip it up. 

As thy day grows warm and high, 
Life's meridian flaming nigh. 
Dost thou spurn the humble vale ? 
Life's proud summits wouldst thou 

scale ? 
Check thy climbing step, elate. 
Evils lurk in felon wait : 
Dangers, eagie-pinioned, bold^ 
Soar around each cliffy hold, 
While cheerful Peace, with linnet 

song, 
Chants the lowly dells among. 

As the shades of ev'ning close, 
Beck'ning thee to long repose ; 
As life itself becomes disease, 
Seek the chimney-nook of ease. 
There ruminate with Swber thought. 
On all t^ou'st seen, and heard, and 

wrought ; 
And teach the sportive younkers 

round. 
Saws of experience, sage and sound. 
Say, man's true, genuine estimate. 
The grand criterion of his fate, 
Is not — art thou high or low ? 
Did thy fortune ebb or flow ? 
Did many talents gild thy span ? 
Or frugal Nature grudge thee one ? 
Tell them, and press it on their mina, 
As thou thyself must shortly find. 
The smile or frown of awful Heav'n 
To Virtue or to Vice is giv'a. 
Saj, to be just, and kind^ and wise. 



There solid self -enjoyment lies ; 
That foolish, selfish, faithless ways, 
Lead to be wretched, vile, and base. . 

Thus resign'd and quiet, creep 
To the bed of lasting sleep ; 
Sleep, whence thou shait ne'er awake, 
Night, where dawn shall never break, 
Till future life, future no more. 
To light and joy the good restore. 
To light and joy unknown before. 

Stranger, go ! Heaven be thy guide! 
Quod the Beadsman of Nith-side. 

Glenriddel Hermitage. June 28, 1788, from 

THE MS. 

Thou whom chance may hither lead, 
Be thou clad in russet weed, 
Be thou deckt in silken stole. 
Grave these maxims on thy soul. 

Life is but a day at most. 
Sprung from night, in darkness lost : 
Hope not sunshine every hour. 
Fear not clouds ^ill always lour. 
Happiness is but a name. 
Make content a^.d ease thy aim. 
Ambition is a meteor gleam, 
Fame, an idle restless dream : 
Peace, the tenderest flower of spring ; 
Pleasures, insects on the wing ; 
Those that sip the dew alone. 
Make the butterflies thy own ; 
Those that would tlie bloom devour, 
Crusli the locusts, save the flower. 
For the future be prepar'd. 
Guard, wherever thou canst guard ; ' 
But thy utmost duly done, 
Welcome what thou canst not shun. 
Follies past give thou to air. 
Make their consequence thy care : 
Keep the name of Man in mind. 
And dishonour not thy kind. 
Reverence, with lowl}^ heart. 
Him whose wondrous work thou art : 
Keep HLs goodness still in view. 
Thy Trust, and Thy Example too. 
Stranger, go ! Heaven be thy guide I 
Quod tJie Beadsman of Nith-side. 



94 



ELEOT, 



ODE, SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF MRS. OSWALD. 



Dweller in yon dungeon dark, 
Hangman of creation, mark ! 
Who in widow-weeds appears. 
Laden witii unlionour'd years, 
Noosing with care a bursting purse. 
Baited with many a deadly curse ! 

STROPHE. 

View the wither'd beldam's face- 
Can thy keen inspection trace 
Aught of humanity's sweet melting 

grace ? 
Note that eye,' tis rheum o'ertlows, 
Pity's flood there never rose. 
SL;e those hands, ne'er stretch'd to 

save. 
Hands that took — but never gave. 
Keeper of Mammon's iron chest, 
Lo, there she goes, unpitied and iin- 

blest; 
She goes, but not to realms of eTei- 

lasting rest I 



ANTISTROPHE. 

Plunderer of armies, lift tliine eyes, 
(A while forbear, ye tort'ring fiends,' 
Seest thou those step unwilling hither 

bends ? 
Ko fallen angel, hurl'd from uppei" 

skies : 
'Tis thy trusty quondam mate, 
Doom'd to share thy fier}" fate. 
She, tardy, hell- ward plies. 

EPODE. 

And are they of no more avail. 

Ten thousand glitt'ring pounds a year? 

In other worlds can Mammon fail. 

Omnipotent as he is here ? 

O, bitter mock'ry of the pompous bier, 

While down the wretched vital part 

is driv'u ! 

ave-lodg'd 

science clear. 
Expires in rags, unknown, and goer 

to Heav'n. 



ELEGY ON CAPT. MATTHEW HENDERSON, 



A GENTLEMAN WHO HELD THE PATENT FOU HIS HONOURS IM3IEDIATELT FROM ALMIGHTY GOD. 

But now his radiant course is run, 

For Matthew's course was bright; 
His soul was like the glorious sun, 

A matchless, JHeav'nly Light. 



O Death \ thou tyrant fell and 

bloody ! 
The meikle devil wi' a woodie 
Haurl thee hame to his black smiddie, 

O'er hurcheon hides. 
And lik3 stock-fish come o'er his 
studdie 

Wi' thy auld sides ! 

He's gane, lie's gane! he's frae us torn, 
The ae best fellow e'er was born ! 
Thee, Matthew, Nature's sel' shall 
mourn 

By wood and wild. 
Where, haply, Pity strays forlorn, 

Frae man exil'd. 



Ye hills, near neebors o' the stams. 
That proudly cock your cresting 

cairns ! 
Ye cliffs, the haunts of sailing earns, 
Where echo slumbers ! 
Come join, ye Nature's sturdiest 
bairns, 

JNIy wailing numbers I 



Mourn, ilka grove the cushat kens ! 
Ye haz'lly shaws and briery dens ! 
Ye buruics, wimplin down your glens 

Wi' ioddlin dili, 
Or foaming Strang, \\i hasty stens, 

Frae lin to lin. 



ELECf ji 



95 



Mourn, I:ttle harel^ells o'er the lee ; 
Yq stately foxgloves fair to see ; 
Ti 2 woodbines hanging bonilie, 

la scented bow'rs ; 
Ye roses on your tljorny tree, 

T.2e iirst o' tlow'rs. 

At dawn, when ev'ry grassy hlade 
Droops with a diamond at his head, 
At ev'n, when beans their fragrance 
shed, 

til' rustling gale, 
Ye maukins whiddin thro' the glade, 
Come join my wail. 

Mourn, ye wee songsters o' the wood ; 
Ye grouse that crap the heather bud ; 
Ye curfews calling thro' a clud ; 

Ye whistling plover; 
And mourn, ye whirring paitrick 
brcod ; 

He's gane for ever ! 

Mc/urn, sooty coots, and speckled 

teals. 
Ye fisher herons, watching eels ; 
Ye duck and drake, wi' airy wheels 

Circling the lake ; 
Ye bitterns, till the quagmire reels 

Rair for his sake. 

Mourn, clam'riug craiks at close o' 

day, 
'Mang fields o' flow'ring clover gay ; 
And when ye wing your annual way 

Frae our cauld shore. 
Tell thae far warlds, wha lies in clay, 

Wham we deplore. 

Ye houlots, frae your ivy bow'r. 
In some auld tree, or eldritch tow'r, 
What time the moon, wi' silent glowr, 

Sets up her horn, 
Wail thro' the dreary midnight hour 

Till waukrife morn ! 

O rivers, forests, hills, and plains ! 
Oft have ye heard ^ny canty strains : 
But now, what else for me remains 

But tales of woe ; 
And frae my een the d rapping rains 

Maun ever flow. 

Mourn, spring, thou darling of the 

year 1 
Dk cow&Up cup shall kep a tear : 



while eacli corn^ 



Thou, simms 

spear 

Shoots up its head, 
Thy gay, green, flow'ry tresses siiea??, 
For him that's dead ! 

Thou, autumn, wi' thy yellow hair. 
In grief thy sallow mantle tear! 
Thou, winter, hurling thro' the air 

The roaring blast, 
Wide o'er the naked v»'orld declare 

The worth we've lost ! 

Mourn him, thou sun, great source oi 

light ! 
Mourn, empress of the silent night ! 
And you, ye twinkling starnies bright 

My Matthew mourn ! 
For through your orbs he's ta en hif 
flight, 

Ne'er to return. 

O Henderson ! the man ! the brother • 
And art thou gone, and gone for 

ever ? 
And has thou crost that unknow? 
river. 

Life's dreary bound ? 
Like thee, where shall I find another, 
The world around ? 

Go to your sculptur'd tombs, ye G 'ea' 
In a" the tinsel trash o' state ! 
But by thy honest turf 1 11 wait, 

Thou man of worth ! 
And weep thee ae best fellow's fate 

E'er lay in earth. 



THE EPITAPH. 

Stop, passenger ! nw story's brief, 
And truth I shall relate, man ; 

I tell nae common tale o' grief, 
For Matthew was a great man. 

If thou uncommon merit hast, 

Yet spurnd at fortune's door, mat 

A look of pity hither cast. 
For Matthew was a poor man. 

If thou a noble sodger art. 

That passest by this grave, man, 

There moulders here a gallant hear^ 
For Matthew was a brave man. 



96 



LAMENT OF MART QUEEN OF SCOTS. 



It thou on men, their works and ways, 
Caust throw uncommon light, man ; 

Here lies wha weel had won thy praise, 
For Mattliew was a bright man. 

If *.hoii at friendship's sacred ca' 
Wad life itself resign, man ; 

The sympathetic tear maun fa', 
For Matthew was a kind man. 

if thou art staunch without a stain, 
Like the unchanging blue, man ; 



This was a kinsman o' thy ain, 
For jMatthew was a true man. 

If thou hast wit, and fun, and fire. 
And ne'er gudo wine did fear, mjui 

This was thy billie, dam, and sire, 
For Matthew was a queer man. 

If only whiggish whingin sot. 
To blame poor Matthew dare, maS 

May dool and sorrow be his lot, 
For Matthew was a rare man. 



.AMENT OF MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, ON THE 
APPROACH OF SPRING. 



Now Nature hangs her mantle green 

On every bloondng tree, 
And spreads her sheets o' daisies white 

Out-owre the grassy lea : 
Now Phoebus cheers the crystal 
streams. 

And glads the azAire skies • 
But nought can giad the weary wight 

That fast in durance lies. 

N"ow laverocks wake the merry morn.. 

Aloft on dewy wing ; 
The merle, in his noontide bow'r 

Makes woodland echoes ring : 
The mavis mild wi' many a note. 

Sings drowsy day to rest : 
In love and freedom they rejoice, 

Wi' care nor thrall opprest. 

iTGV7 blooms the lily by the bank. 

The primrose down the brae ; 
The hawthorn's budding in the glen 

And milk-white is the sine : 
The meanest kind in fair Scotland 

May rove tlicir sweets amang ; 
But 1, the Queen of a' Scotland, 

Maun lie in prison Strang. 

li 77-. s the Queen o' bonie France, 

Where happy I hae been, 
jTu' lightly rase I in the morn, 

A blythe lay doAvn at e'en : 
And I'm the sov'reign of Scotland, 

^d mom ^ U-aitor there ; 



Yet here I lie in foreign bands. 
And never-ending care. 

But as for thee, thou false woman, 

M}' sister and my fae, 
Grim vengeance, yet, shall whet & 
sword 

That thro' thy soul shall gae : 
The weeping blood in woman's breast 

Was never known to thee ; 
Nor th' balm that draps on wounds of 
woe 

Frae woman's pitying ee. 

My son ! my son ! may kinder stars 

Upon thy fortune shine ; 
And may iiiose pleasures gild thy 
reign. 

That ne'er wad blink on mine ! 
God keep thee frae thy mother's faes. 

Or turn their hearts to thee : 
And where thou meet'st thy mother's. 
friend. 

Remember him for me ! 

Oh ! soon, to me, may summer-suns 

Xae mair light ud the morn ! ^ 
Nae mair, to me, the autumn winds 

Wave o'er the yellow coin ! 
And in the narrow house o' death 

Let winter round me rave ; 
And the next flow'rs that deck th* 
spring, 

Bloom en my peaceful gifivp I 



EPISTLE TO R. QBAHAM, ESQ. 07 



EPISTLE TO R. GRAHAM, ESQ. 

When Nature her great master-piece design'd, 
And frani'd her last, best work, the human mind, 
Her eye intent on all the mazy plan, 
She form'd of various parts the various man. 
Then first she calls the useful many forth •, 
Plain plodding- industry, and sober worth : 
Thence peasants, farmers, native sous of earth, 
And merchandise' whole genus take their birth : 
Each prudent cit a warm existence finds, 
And all mechanics' manj^-aprou'd kinds. 
Some other rarer sorts are wanted yet, 
The lead and buoy are needful to the net : 
The caput mortuum of gross desires 
Makes a material for mere knights and squires ; 
The martial phosphorus is taught to flow, 
She kneads the lumpish philosophic dough, 
Then marks the unyielding mass with grave designs. 
Law, physic, politics, and deep divines : 
Last, slie sublimes th' Aurora of the poles, 
The flashing elements of female souls. 

The order'd system fair before her stood, 
Nature, well-pleas'd, pronounc'd it very good ; 
But ere she gave creating labour o'er, 
Half- jest, she try'd one curious labour morj ; 
Some spumy, fiery, ignis fatuus matter. 
Such as the slightest breath of air might scatter; 
With arch alacrity and conscious glee 
(Nature may have her whim as well as we, 
Her Hogarth-art perhaps she meant to show it) 
She forms the thing, and christens it— a Poet. 
Creature, th'o' oft the prey of care and sorrow, 
When blest to-day, unmindful of to-morrow. 
A being form'd t' amucc his graver friends, 
Admir'd and pr^as'd — and there the homage ends i 
A mortal quite unfit for Fortune's strife. 
Yet oft the sport of all the ills of life ; 
Prone to enjoy each pleasure riches giye, 
Yet haply wanting wherewithal to live : 
Longing to wipe each tear, to heal each groan. 
Yet frequent all unheeded in his own. 

But honest Nature is not quite a Turk, 
She laugh'd at first, then felt for her poor work. 
Pitying the propless climber of mankind, 
She cast about a standard tree to find ; 
And, to support his helpless woodbine state, 
Attach'd him to the generous truly great, 
A title, and the only one I claim, 
To lay strong hold for help on bounteous Graham. 

Pity the timeful muses' hcipless train. 
Weak, timid landsmen on life's stqrmv muu 1 



$'8 TO ROBERT GRAHAM, ESQ 

TLcir hearts no selfish stern absorbent stuff, 

That never gives— tho' humbly takes enough ; 

The little fate allovrs, they =^hare as soon. 

Unlike sage, proverb'd, wisaom's hard wrung boon. 

The world were blest did bliss on them depend, 

Ah, that " the friendly e'er should want a friend ! " 

Let prudence number o'er each sturdy son, 

Who life and wisdom at one race begun, 

Who feel by reason, and who give by rule, 

(Instinct's a brute, and sentiment a fool !) 

Who make poor " will do" wait upon " I should"— 

We ov/n they're prudent, but who feels they're good t 

Ye wise ones, hence 1 ye hurt the social eye ! 

God's image rudely etch'd on base alloy ! 

But come ye, who the godlike pleasure know, 

Heaven's attribute distinguish'd — to bestow ! 

Whose arms of love would grasp tho human race : 

Come thou who giv'st with all a courtier's grace ; 

Friend of my life, true patron of my rliymes ! 

Prop of my dearest hopes for future times. 

Why shrinks my soul, half-blushing, half-afraid, 

Backward, abasli'd to ask thy friendly aid ? 

I know my need, I know thy giving hand, 

I crave thy friendship at thy kind command ; 

But tliere are such who court the tuneful nine — 

Heavens ! should the branded character be mine ! 

Whose verse in manhood's pride sublimely flows. 

Yet vilest reptiles in their begging prose, 

Mark, how their lofty independent spirit 

Soars on the spurning wing of injur'd merit ! 

Seek not the proofs in private life to find ; 

Pity the best of words should be but wind ! 

So, to heaven's gates the lark's shrill song ascends. 

But grovelling on the earth the carol ends. 

In all the clam'rous cry of starving want, 

They dun benevolence with shameless front ; 

Oblige them, patronize their tinsel lays, 

•They persecute you all your future days ! 

Ere my poor soul such deep damnation stain, 

My hoVny fist assume the plough again ; 

The piebald jacket let me patch once more ; 

On cighteen-pence a ..'eek I've liv'd before. 

Tho , thinks to Her.ven, I dare even that last shift, 

I trust, meantime, my boon is in thy gift ; 

Thc'X, plr.c'd by "hee upon the wish'd-for height, 

Wh :;rc, man ::nd nature fairer in her sight. 

My nuise may imp her wing for some sublimer flight. 

TO ROBERT GRAHAM, OF FINTRA, ESQo 

Late crippl'd of an arm, and now a leg, ^ 
Abon; to beg a pass for leave to beg ; 
Dull, listless, teas'd, dejected, and deprest 
CN?.ture is adverse to 9. cripolft's r«st) ; 



TO ROBERT GRAHAM, ESQ. 99 

Will generous Graham list to his Poet's wail ? 
(It soothes ^^oor Misery, heark'ning to her tale,) 
And h^ar him curse the light he tirst survey'd, 
And doubly curse the luckless rhyming trade ? 

Thou, Nature, partial Nature, I arraign ; 
Of thy caprice maternal I complain. 
The lion and the bull thy care have found, 
One shakes the forests, and one spurns the ground t 
Thou giv'st the ass his hide, the snail his shell, 
T.'i' cuvenom'd v/asp, victorious, guards his cell.— 
Thy minions, Iiingc defend, control, devour, 
In all til' omnipotence of rule and power.— 
Foxc3 and statesmen, subtile wiles ensure ; 
The cit and polcc::^t stink, and arc secure. 
Toads with thoir poison, doctors with their drug, 
The priest and hedgehog in their robes, are snug 
Ev'n silly woman has her warlike arts, 
Her tongue and eycc, her dreaded spear and darts 

But Oh ! thou bitter step-mother and hard, 
To thy poor, fenceless, naked child — the Bard T 
A thing unteachablc in world's skill, 
And hc^lf m idiot too, more helplecc still. 
No heek to bear him from the op'ning dun ; 
No claws to dig, his hated sight to shun ; 
No horns, but those by lucklccs Hymen worn, 
And those, alas ! not Amalthea's horn : 
No nervc3 olfact'ry, Mamnicn'c trusty cur, 
Clad in rich Dulness' comfortable f':r, 
In naked feeling, and in aching pride, 
He bears th' unbroken blast from ev'ry side : 
Vampyre booksellers drain him to the heart. 
And scorpion critics cureless venom dart. 

Critics — appall'd I venture on the name. 
Those cut-throat bandits in the paths of fame : 
Bloody dissectors, worse that ten Monroes ; 
He hacks to teach, they mangle to expose. 

His heart by causeless, wanton malice wrung, 
By biockheads' daring into madness stung ; 
His well-wen bays, than life itself more dear, 
By miscreants torn, who ne'er one sprig must weai 
Foil'd, bleeding, tortur'd in th' unequal strife^ 
The hapless Poet flounders on thro' life. 
Till fled each hope that once his bosom fir'd, 
And fled each Muse that glorious once inspir'd, 
Low sunk in squalid, unprotected age. 
Dead, even resentment, for his irjur'd page. 
He heeds or feels no more the ruthless critic's rage \ 

So, by some hedge, the generous steed deceas'd. 
For lialf-starv'd snarling curs a* dainty feast ; 
By toil and famine wore to chin and bone, 
Lies, senseless of each tugring biteh's son. 

O Dulness ! portion of the truly blest I 
Calm ghelter'd haven of eternal rest I 



100 A LAMENT, 

Thy sons ne'er madden in the fierce extremes 
Of Fortune's polar frost, or torrid beams. 
If mantling high she tills the golden cup. 
With sober seliish ease they sip it up ; 
Conscious the bounteous meed th(;y well deserve. 
They only wonder " some folks " do not starve. 
The grave sage hern thus easy picks his frog. 
And thinks the mallard a sad worthless dog. 
When disappointment snaps the clue of hope, 
And thro' disastrous night they darkling grope. 
With deaf endurance sluggishly they bea'\ 
And just conclude that " fools are fortune's care." 
So heavy, passive to the tempest's shocks, 
Strong on the sign-post stands the stupid ox. 

Not so the idle Muses' mad-cap train. 
Not such the workings of their moon-struck brain ; 
In equanimity they never dwell, 
By turns in soaring heav'n, or vaulted hell. 

'l dread thee, Fate, relentless and severe, 
With all a poet's, husband's, father's fear 1 
Already one stroug-hold of hope is lost, 
Glencairn, the truly noble, lies in dust ; 
(Fled, like the sun eclips'cl as noon appears, 
And left us darkling in a world of tears :) 
Oh ! hear my ardent, grateful, selfish pray'r 1 
Fintra, my other stay, long bless and spare ! 
Thro' a long life his' hopes and wishes crown. 
And brightlu cloudless skies his sun go down I 
May bliss domestic smooth his private path ; 
Give energy to life ; and soothe his latest breath. 
With many a tilial tear circling the bed of death I 

LAMENT FOR JAMES, EARL OF GLENCAIRK 

1 HE wind blew hollow frae the hills, ** Ye scatter'd birds that faintly sing. 

By fits the sun's departing beam The rcliques of the vernal quire ! 

Look'd on the fading yellow woods Ye woods that shed on a' the winds 

That wav'd o'er "Lugar's winding The honours of tlie aged year ! 

stream : " A few sliort months, and glad and 

Beneath a craigy steep, a Bard, gay, 

Laden with years and meiklepain. Again ye'll charm the ear and e*e ; 

In loud lament bewail'd his lord, But nocht in all revolving time 

Whom death had all untimely taen. Can gladness bring again to me. 

He lean'd him to an ancient aik, " I am a bending aged tree. 

Whose trunk was mould'ring down That long has stood the wind and 



with years ; 



ram 



His locks were bleached white wi' time. But now has come a cruel blast, 
His hoary cheek was wet wi' tears ; And my last hold of earth is gane : 

And as he touch'd his trembling harp, Nae loaf o' mine shall greet the 
And as he tun'd his doleful sang, spring. 

The winds, lamenting thro' their Nae simmer s\in exalt my bloom ; 

caves, But I maun lie before the storm, 
To echp bore the notes alang. And ithers plant Uiem in my roona. 



TAM 0' SHANTEB. 



101 



*' I've seen so many changefu' years. 

On ei\rvh I am a stranger grown ; 
I wander in the ways of men, 

Alike unknowing and unknown : 
Unheard, unpitied, unreliev'd, 

I bare ahme my lade o' care. 
For silent, low, on beds of dust, 

Lie a' that would my sorrows share. 

" And last (the sum of a' my griefs !) 

My noble master lies in clay ; 
The flow'r amang our barons bold, 

Plis country's "pride, his country's 
stay : 
In weary being now I pine, 

For a' the life of life is dead. 
And hope has left my aged ken. 

On forward wing for ever fled. 

*' Awake thy last sad voice, my harp ! 

The voice of woe and wild despair ! 
Awake, resound thy latest lay. 

Then sleep in silence evermair ! 
And thou, my last, best, only friend, 

That fillest an untimely tomb. 
Accept this tribute from the Bard 

Thou brought from fortune's mirk- 
est gloom. 



" In Poverty's low ban'en vale. 

Thick mists, obscure, involv'd me 
round ; 
Though oft I turn'd the wistful eye, 

No ray of fame was to be found : 
Thou found'st me, like the morning 
sun 

That melts the fogs in limpid air, 
The friendless Bard, and rustic .song, 

Became alike thy fostering care. 

" O ! why has worth so short a date ? 

"W hile villains ripen gray with time ! 
Must thou, the noble, gen'rous, great, 

Fall in bold manhoods hardy 
prime ? 
Why did I live to see that day ? 

A day to me so full of woe ? 
O ! had I met the mortal shaft 

Which laid my benefactor low ! 

" The bridegroom may forget the 
bride 

Was made his wedded wife yestreen; 
The monarch may forget the crown 

That on his head an hour has been, 
The mother may forget the child 

That smiles sae sweetly on her knee; 
But I'll remember thee, Glencairn, 

And a' that thou hast done for me I " 



LINES SENT TO SIR JOHN WHITEFORD, OF WHITE- 
FORD, BART., WITH THE FOREGOING POEM. 

Thou, who thy honour as thy God rever'st. 

Who, save thy mind's reproach, nought earthly fear'st. 

To thee this votive offering I impart. 

The tearful tribute of a broken heart. 

The friend thou valued'st, I, the Patron, lov'd ; 

His worth, his honour, all the world approv'd. 

We'll mourn till we too go as he has gone. 

And tread the dreary path to that dark world unknown. 



TAM O' SHANTER. 

A TALE. 

Of Brownyis and of Bogilis full in this Buke. 

Gawin Douglas. 



When chapman billies leave the street, 
And drouthy neebors, neebors meet, 
As market-days are wearing late, 
An' folk begin to tak the gate ; 



While we sit bousing at the nappy. 
An' getting fou and unco happy. 
We think na on the lang Scots miles, 
The messes, waters, slaps, and sfjk* 



i02 



TAM 0' SHANTE&. 



That lie between us and our hame, 
Wliare sits our sulky sullen dame, 
Galberiug her brows like gathering 

storm, 
Nursing her wrath to keep it w^arm. 
This truth fand honest Tarn o' 
Shauter, 
As he frae Ayr ae night did canter, 
(Auld Ayr, wham ne'er a town sur- 
passes, 
Foi honest men and bonie lasses.) 

O Tarn ! hadst thou but been sae wise, 
As ta'en thy ain wife Kate's advice ! 
Slie tauld thee weel thou wast a skel- 

lum, 
A blethering, blustering, drunken 

blellum ; 
That frae November till October, 
Ae market-day thou was na sober ; 
That ilka melder, wi' the miller, 
'I'iiou sat as lang as thou had siller ; 
That ev'ry naig was ca'd a shoe on. 
The smith and thee gat roaring fou on; 
That at the Lord's house, ev'n on 

Sunday, 
Thou drank wi' Kirton Jean till Mon- 
day. 
She prophesy'd that, late or soon,, 
I'hou would be found deep drown'd 

in Doon ; 
Or catch'd wi' warlocks in the mirk, 
By Alloway's auld haunted kirk. 

'Ah, gentle dames ! it gars me greet, 
To think how monie counsels sweet, 
How mony lengthcn'd, sage advices, 
The husband frae the wife despises ! 
But to our tale : Ae market night, 
Tam had got planted unco right ; 
Fast by an ingle, bleezing finely, 
Wi' reaming swats, that drank di- 
vinely ; 
And at his elbow, Souter Johnny, 
His ancient, trusty, drouthy crony ; 
Tam lo'ed him like a vera brither ; 
They had been fou for weeks thegither. 
Tlie night drave on wi' sangs and 

clatter ; 
And ay the ale was growing better : 
The landkdy and Tam grew gracious, 
Wi' favours, secret, sweet, and pre- 
cious : 
The souter tauld his queerest stories ; 
The landlord's laugh was ready 
ehorus : 



The storm without might rair and 

rustle, 
Tam did na mind the storm a whistle. 
Care, mad to see a man sae happy. 
E'en drown'd liimsel amang the nappy: 
As bees flee hame wi' lades o' treasure, 
Th» minutes wing'd their way wi' 

pleasure ; 
Kings may be blest, but Tam was 

glorious ! 
O'er a' the ills o' life victorious ! 
But pleasures are like poppies 

spread. 
You seize the flow'r, its bloom is shed; 
Or like the snow-falls in the river, 
A moment white — then melts for 

ever ; 
Or like the borealis race. 
That flit ere you can point their place ; 
Or like the rainbow's lovely form 
Evanishing amid the storm. — ■ 
Nae man can tether time or tide ; — 
The hour approaches Tam maun ride ; 
That hour, o' night's black arch the 

key-stane, 
That dreary hour he mounts his beast 

in ; 
And sic a night he taks the road in, 
As ne'er poor sinner was abroad in. 
The wind blew as 'twad blawn its 

last ; 
The rattling show'rs rose on the 

blast ; 
The speedy gleams the darkness swal- 
low 'd ; 
Loud, deep, and lang, the thunder 

bellow'd : 
That night, a child miglit understand. 
The Deil had business on his hand. 
Weel mounted on his gray mare, 

Meg, 
A better never lifted leg, 
Tam skelpit on thro' dub and mire. 
Despising wind, and rain, and tire ; 
Whiles holding fast his gude blue 

bonnet ; 
AVhiles crooning o'er some auld Scots 

sonnet ; 
Whiles glow'ring round wi' prudent 

cares. 
Lest bogles catch him unawares ; 
Kirk-AUoway was drawing nigh, 
Whare ghaists and houlets nightly 



TAM a SHATTER. 



103 



By this time be was cross the ford, 
Whare in the snaw, the chapman 

smoor'd ; 
And past the birks and meikle stane, 
Whare drunken Charlie brak's neck- 
bane ; 
And thro' the whins, and by the cairn, 
Whare hunters fand the murder'd 

bairn ; 
And near the thorn, aboon the well, 
Whare Mungo's mither hang'd lier- 

sel. — 
Before him Doon pours all his floods ; 
The doubling storm roars thro' the 

woods ; 
The lightnings flash from pole to 

pole ; 
Kear and more near the thunders 

roll ; 
When, glimmering thro' the groaning 

trees, 
Kirk-Alloway seem'd in a bleeze ; 
Thro' ilka bore the beams were glanc- 
ing ; 
And loud resounded mirth and danc 

ing. — 
Inspiring bold John Barleycorn ! 
What dangers thou canst make us 

scorn ! 
Wi' tippenny, we fear nae evil ; 
Wr usquebae, we'll face the devil ! — 
The swats sae ream'd in Tammie's 

noddle, 
Fair play, he car'd na deils a boddle. 
But ]\Iaggie stood right sair astonish'd, 
Till, by the heel and hand admonish'd, 
She ventur'd forward on the light ; 
And, vow ! Tam saw an unco sight l 
Warlocks and witches in a dance : 
Nae cotillion brent sew frae France, 
But hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys, and 

reels, 
Put life and mettle in their heels. 
A winnock-bunker in the east, 
There sat auld Nick, in shape o' 

beast ; 
A towzie tyke, black, grim, and large, 
To gie them music was his charge : 
He screw'd the pipes and gart them 

skirl ; 
Till roof and rafters a' did dirl. — 
Coffins stood round like open presses, 
That shaw'd the dead in their last 

dresses i 



And by some devilish cantraip slight 
Each in its cauld hand held a light,—' 
By which heroic Tam was able 
To note upon the haly table, 
A murderer's banes in gibbet nirns ; 
Twa span-lang, wee, unchristen'd 

bairns ; 
A thief, new-cutted frae the rape, 
Wi' his last gasp his gab did gape ; 
Five tomahawks, "wi' blude " rec3 

rusted ; 
Five scymitars, wi' murder crusted : 
A garter, which a babe had strangled, 
A knife, a father's throat had man- 
gled ; 
Whom his ain son o' life bereft, 
The gray hairs yet stack to the heft ; 
Wi' mair o' horrible and awfu'. 
Which ev'n to name wad be unlawf u' . 
As Tammie glowr'd, amaz'd, and 
curious. 
The mirth and fun grew^ fast and furi- 
ous : 
The piper loud and louder blew ; 
The dancers quick and quicker flew ; 
They reel'd, tliey set, they cross'd, 

they cleekit, 
Till ilka carlin swat and reekit, 
And coost her dud dies to the wark. 
And linket at it in her sark ! 
Now Tam, O Tam ! had thae been 
queans, 
A' plump and strapping in their 

teens ; 
Their sarks, instead o' creeshie flan- 

nen. 
Been snaw-white seventeen bunder 

linnen ! 
Thir breeks o' mine, m^y only pair, 
That ance were plush, o' gude blue 

hair, 
I wad hae gi'en them off my hurdles, 
For ae blink o' the bonie burdies ! 
But witherd beldams, auld and 
droll, 
Rigwooddie hags wad spean a foal, 
Lowping and flinging on a crummock, 
I wonder didna turn thy stomach. 
But Tam kend what was what fu* 
brawlie, 
There was ae winsome wench and 

walie, 
That night enlisted in the core, 
( Lang after kend on Carrick shore ; 



104 



ON CAPTAIN GROSE'S l^EREiJRINATIONS. 



For mouy a beast to dead she shot, 
And perish'd mony a bonie boat, 
And shook baith meikle corn and bear, 
And kept the country-side in fear,) 
Her catty sark, o' Paisley harn, 
Tlint wliile a lassie she had worn, 
In longitude tho' sorcl^y scanty. 
It was her best, and she was vauntie. — 
Ah ! little kend thy reverend grannie, 
That sark she coft for her wee Nan- 
nie, 
Wi' twa pund Scots ('twas a' her 

riches ), 
Wnd ever grac'd a dance of witches ! 
13 ut here my muse her wing maun 

cour ; 
Sic flights are far beyond lier pow'r ; 
To sing how Nannie lap and tiang, 
( A souple jade she was, and Strang,) 
And how Tam stood, like aue be- 

witch'd. 
And thought his very een enrich'd ; 
Even Satan glowr'd, and lidg'd fu' 

fain, 
And hotch'd and blew wi' might and 

main : 
Till tirst ae caper, syne anither, 
Tam tint his reason a' thegither, 
And roars out, " Weel done, Cutty- 

sark ! " 

And in an instant all was dark : 

And scared}^ had he jNIaggie rallied, 

IVHien out the hellish legion sallied. 

As bees bizz out wi' angry fyke. 

When plundering herds assail their 

byke ; 



As open pussie's mortal foes. 

When, pop ! she starts before their 

nose ; 
As eager runs the market-crowd, 
When, •' Catch the thief ! " resounds 

aloud ; 
So Maggie runs, the witches follow, 
Wi' moiiie an eldritch skreech and 
hollow. 

Ah, Tam ! ah, Tam ! thou'll get thy 
fjurin ! 
In hell they'll roast thee like a herrin ! 
In vain thy Kate awaits thy comin ! 
Kate soon will be awoefu' woman ! 
Now^ do thy speedy utmost, Meg, 
And win the key-stane of the brig ; 
There at them thou thy tail ma}' toss, 
A running stream they darena cross. 
But ere the ke\-stane slie could make, 
The tient a tail she had to shake I 
For Nannie, far before the rest. 
Hard upon noble ]\Iaggie prest, 
And flew at Tam wi' furious ettle ; 
But little wist she ]\[aggie's mettle — 
Ae spring brought oil' her master 

hale, 
But left behind her ain gray tail ; 
The cavlin claught her by the rump. 
And left poor Maggie scarce a slump. 

Now, wha this tale o' truth shall 
read. 
Ilk man and mother's son, take heed ; 
AVhene'er to drink you are inclin'd, 
Or cutty-sarks run in your mind, 
Think, ye may buy the joys o'er dear. 
Remember Tam o' Shanter's mare. 



ON THE LATE CAPTAIN" GROSE'S PEREGRINATIONS 
THRO' SCOTLAND, 

COLLECTING THE ANTIQUITIES OP THAT KINGDOM. 



Hear, Land o' Cakes, and brither 

Scots, 
Frae Maidenkirk to Johnny Groats ; — 
If there's a hole in a' your coats, 

I rede you tent it : 
A chield's amang you taking notes, 

And, faith, he'll prent it. 

If in your bounds ye chance to light 
Upon a fine, fat, fodgel wight. 
0' stature short, but genius bright, 



That's he, mark weel— 
And wow ! he has an unco slight 
O' cauk and keel. 

By some auld, houlct-haunted biggin. 
Or kirk deserted by its riggin, 
It's ten to ane ye'll find him snug in 

Some eldritch part, 
Wi' deils, they say, Lord save's 1 cc^ 
leaguin 

At some black art. — 



ON SEEING A WOUNDED HARE LIMP BY ME. 



105 



Ilk ghaist that haunts auld ha' or 

chamer, 
Ye gipsj-gang that deal in glamor. 
And you deep read in hell's black 
grammar, 

Warlocks and witches, 
Yt;'ll quake at his conjuring hammer, 
Ye midnight bitches. 

It's tauld he was a sodger bred, 
And ane wad rather fa'n than fled ; 
But now he's quat the spurtle-blade, 

A dog-skin wallet, 
And taen the — Antiquarian trade, 

I think they call it. 

He has a fouth o' auld nick-nackets : 
Rusty aim caps and jinglin jackets. 
Wad hand the Lothians three in 
tackets, 

A towmont gude ; 
And parritch-pats, and auld saut- 
backets, 

Before the Flood. 

Of Eve's first fire he has a cinder , 
Auld Tubalcain's fire-shool and fender^ 



That which distinguished the gender 
O' Balaam's ass ; 

A broom-stick o' the witch of Endor, 
V/eel shod wi' brass. 

Forbye, he'll shape you aff, fu' gleg 
The cut of Adam's philibeg ; 
The knife that nicket A bet's craig 

He'll prove you full3'> 
It was a faulding jocteleg, 

Or lang-kail gullie. — 

But wad ye see him in his glee. 
For meikle glee and fun has he, 
Then set him down, and twa or three 

Gude fellows wi' liim ; 
And port, O port ! shine thou a wee, 

And then ye'll see him ! 

Now, by thePowr's o' verse and prose! 
Thou art a dainty chield, O Grose! — 
Whae'er o" thee shall ill suppose. 

They sair misca' thee ; 
I'd take the rascal by the nose, 

Wad say, Shame fa' theel 



ON SEEING A WOUNDED HaRE LIMP BY ME, 



WHICH A FELLOW HAD JUST SHOT AT. 



[Aprih 17»9.1 



InhUxMAN man ! curse on thy barb"rous art, 

And blasted be thy murder-aiming eye ; 

May never pity soothe thee with a sigh, 
Nor ever pleasure glad thy cruel heart ! 

Go, live, poor wanderer of the wood and field. 

The bitter little that of life remains ; 

No more the thickening brakes and verdant plains 
To thee shall home, or food, or pastime yield. 

Seek, mangled WTetch, some place of wonted rest. 
No more of rest, but now thy dying bed ! 
The sheltering rushes wdiistiing o'er thy head. 

The cold earth with thy bloody bosom prest. 

Oft as by winding Nith, I, musing, wait 
The sober eve, or hail the cheerful dawn, 
I'll miss thee sporting oer the dew^y lawn, 

And curse the ruffian's aim, and mourn thy hapless fate. 



106 



THE DEATH OF JOHN M'LEOD, ESQ. 



ADDRESS TO THE SHADE OF i HOMSON, 

ON CROWNING HIS BUST AT EDNAM, ROXBURGH-SHIRR, WITH BAYS. 



While virgin Spring, by Eden's flood, 
Unfolds her tender mantle green, 

Or pranks the sod in frolic mood, 
Or tunes Eolian strains between ; 

While Summer, with a matron grace 
Retreats to Dryburgh's cooling 
shade, 

Yet oft, delighted, stops to trace 
The progress of the spiky blade ; 

While Autumn, benefactor kind, 
By Tweed erects his ag^d head, 



And sees, with self-approving mind. 
Each creature on his bounty fed ; 

While maniac Winter rages o'er 
The hills whence classic Yarrow 
flows, 

Rousing the turbid torrent's roar, 
Or sweeping, Avild, a waste of snows; 

So long, sweet Poet of the year. 
Shall bloom that wreath thou weL 
hast won : 
While Scotia, with exulting tear, 
Proclaims that Thomson was her 
son. 



TO MISS CRUIKSHANK, 



A VERY YOUNG LADY, 
WRITrSN ON THE BLANK LEAF OF A BOOK, PRESENTED TO HER BY THE AUTHOR. 

]May'st thou long, sweet crimson 

gem. 
Richly deck thy native stem ; 
Till some evening, sober, calm. 
Dropping dews, and breathing balm, 
While all around th( woodland rings, 
And every bird thy requiem sings ; 
Thou, amid the diVgeful soinid. 
Shed thy dyinj honours roimd. 
And resign to parent earth 
The loveliest form she e'er gave 

birth. 



BEAUTEOUS rose-bud, young and gay. 
Blooming in thy early ^lay, 
Never may'st thou, lovely Flow'r, 
Chilly shrink in sleety show'r ! 
Never Boreas' hoary path. 
Never Eunia' pois'nous breath, 
Never baleful stellar lights. 
Taint thee with untimely blights -. 
Never, never reptile thief 
Riot on thy virgin leaf ! 
Nor even Sol too fiercely view 
Thy bosom blushing still with dew 1 



ON READING, IN A NEWSPAPER, 



THE DEATH OF JOHN M'LEOD, ESQ., 

BROTHER TO A YOUNG LADY, A PARTICULAR FRIEND OF THE AUTHOR'S. 



Sad thy tale, thou idle page. 

And rueful thy alarms : 
Death tears the brother of her love 

From Isabella's arms. 

Sweetly deckt with pearly dew 
The morning rose may blow ; 

But cold successive noontide blasts 
May lay its beauties low. 

Fair on Isabella's morn 
The sun propitious smil'd ; 

But, long oie noon, succeeding clouds 
Succeeding hopes bcguil'd. 



Fate oft tears the bosom chords 
That Nature finest strung : 

So Isal)ella's heart was form'd. 
And so that heart was wrung. 

Dread Omnipotence, alone, 
Can heal the wound He gave ; 

Can point the brimful grief -worn 
To scenes beyond the grave. 

Virtue's blossoms there shall blow^ 
And fear no withering blast ; 

There Isabella's spotless worth 
Shall happy be at last. 



PETITION OF BRUAR WATER. 



107 



THE HUMBLE PE i ITION OF BRUAR WATER TO 

THE NOIVLE DIJKK OF ATHOLE. 



My Lord, I know your nob:.' (-.ir 

Woe ne'er assails in vain ; 
Embolden (1 thus, I beg 3'ou'il hear 

Your humble Slave complain, 
How saucy Phoebus' scorching beams, 

In flaming summer-pride. 
Dry-withering, waste my foamy 
streams, 

And drink my crystal tide. 

The lightly-jumping glowrin trouts, 

That thro' my Vv-aters play, 
If, in their random, wanton spouts. 

They near the margin stray ; 
If, hapless chance ! they iinger iang, 

I'm scorching up so shallow, 
They're left the whitening stanes 
amang. 

In gasping death to wallow. 

Last da}^ I grat wi' spite and teen, 

As Poet Jjurns came by, 
That to a Bard I sliould be seen 

Wi' half my channel dry : 
A panegyric rhyme, I ween, 

Even as I was he shor'd me ; 
But had I in my glory been, 

He, kneeling, wad ador'd me. 

Here, foaming down the shelvy rocks, 

In twisting strength I rin ; 
There, liigli my boiling torrent 
smokes, 

Wild-roaring o'er a linn : 
Enjoying large each spring and well 

As Nature gave ! \em me, 
I am, altho' I'say't mysel, 

Worth gaun a mile to see. 

Would then my r.oblc master please 

To grant my highest wishes. 
He'll shade my banks wi' tow'ring 
trees. 

And bonie spreading bushes. 
Dcliglited doublj^ then,^my Lord, 

You'll v,^ander on my banks. 
And listen monie a grateful bird, 

Return you tuneful thanks. 

The sober laverock, warbling wild, 

Shall to the skies aspire ; 
The go;^■dspink, Music's gayest child. 

Shall sv.eetly join the ciioir : 



The blackbird strong, the lintwhite 
clear, 

The mavis mild and mellow • 
Tlie robin pensive Aiitumn cheer. 

In all her locks of yellow : 

This, too, a covert shall ensure. 

To s'nield them from the storm j 
And coward maukiu sleej) secure, 

Low in her grassy forn: : 
Here shall the shepherd make his^ 
seat, 

To weave his crown of flow'rs ; 
Or find a sheltering safe retreat, 

From prone-descending show'rs. 

xVnd here, by sweet endearing stealth, 

Shall meet the loving pair, 
Despising worlds with all their wealth 

x^s empty, idle care : 
The flow'rs shall vie in all their charm 

The hour of heav n to grace. 
And birks extend their frag".'ant arms, 

To screen the dear embrf 3e. 

Here hapl}^ too, at vernal dawn, 

Some musing bard may stray, 
And eye the smoking, dewy lawn, 

And misty mouLtain, gi'ay ; 
Or, by the reaper's nightly beam, 

Mild-ehequeriiig thro' the trees, 
Rave to my darkly-dashing stream. 

Hoarse-swelling on the breeze. 

Let lofty firs, and ashes cool, 

My lowly banks o'erspread. 
And view, deep-bei^iding in the pool. 

Their shadows' wat'ry bed ! 
Let fi-agrant birks in woodbines drest 

IMy craggy clilTs adorn ; 
And, for^iie little songster's nest. 

The close embow'ring thorn. 

So may Old Scotia's darling hope, 

Your little angel band, 
Spring, like their fathers, up to prop 

Tlieir'honour'd nati^e laud ! 
So n-iay thro' Albion's fartiiest ken. 

To social-flowing glasses 
The grace be—" Atholes honesi men. 

And Athole's boni-i laioses I " 



108 TILE KIRK'S ALARM. 

THE KIRK'S ALARM. 

A SATIRE. 
A Ballad Tune— "Push about the Brisk Bowl." 

OnTHODOx, Orthodox, wlia believe in John Knox, 
Let me sound an alarm to your conscience : 

There's a heretic blast has been blawn i' the wast, 
•' That what is not sense must be nonsense." 

Dr. Mac, Dr. Mac, you should stretch on a rack. 

To strike evil-doers wi' terror ; 
To join laith and sense upon onie pretence. 

Is heretic, damnable error. 

Town of Ayr, town of Ayr, it was mad, I declare, 

To meddle wi' mischief a-brewing ; 
Provost John is still deaf to the church's relief, 

And orator Bob is its ruin, 

D'rymple mild, D'rymple mild, tho' your heart's like a child. 

And your life like the new driven snaw, 
Yet that winna save ye, auld Satan must have ye. 

For preaching that three's ane and twa. 

Rumble John, Rumble John, mount the steps wi' a groan. 

Cry the book is wi' heresy cramm'd ; 
Then lug out your ladle, deal brimstane like adle. 

And roar ev'ry note of the damn'd. 

Simper James, Simper James, leave the fair Killie dames. 

There's a holier chase in your view ; 
I'll lay on your head, that the pack ye'll soon lead, 

For puppies like you there's but few. 

Singet Sawney, Singet Sawney, are ye herding the penny. 

Unconscious what evils await ? 
Wi' a jump, yell, and howl, alarm every soul, 

For the foiil thief is just at your gate. 

Daddy Auld, Daddy Auld, there's a tod in the fauld, 

A tod meikle waur than the Clerk ; 
Tho' ye can do little skaith, ye'll be in at the death, 

An^ gif ye canna bite, ye may bark. 

Davie Bluster, Davie Bluster, if for a saint ye do muster. 

The corps is no nice of recruits : 
Yet to worth let's be just, royal blood ye might boast, 

If the ass was the king of the brutes. 

Jamy Goose, Jamy Goose, ye hae made but toom roose. 

In hunting the wicked Lieutenant ; 
But the Doctor's your mark, for the L — d's haly ark. 

He has cooper'd and caw'd a wrang pin in't. 



ADDRESS TO THE TOOTHACHE. 109 

Poet Willie, Poet Willie, gie the Doctor a volley, 

Wi' your " liberty's chain" and your wit ; 
O'er Pegasus' side ye ne'er laid a stride, 

Ye but smelt, man, the place where he sh-t. 

Andro Gouk, Andro Gouk, ye may slander the book. 

And the book no the waur, let me tell ye J 
Ye are rich, and look big, but lay by hat and wig. 

And ye'll hae a calf's head o' sma' value. 

Barr Steenie, Barr Steenie, what mean ye ? what mean ye ? 

If ye'll meddle nae mair wi' the matter. 
Ye may hae some pretence to liavins and sense. 

Wi' people whia ken ye nae better. 

Irvine Side, Irvine Side, wi' your turkeycock pride, 

Of manhood but sma' is your share ; 
Ye've the figure, 'tis true, even your faes will allow. 

And your" friends they dare grant you nae mair. 

Muirland Jock, Muirland Jock, when the Lord makes a rock 

To crush common sense for her sins. 
If ill manners were wit, there's no mortal so fit 

To confound the poor Doctor at ance. 

Holy Will, Holy Will, there v.as wit i' your skull. 

When ye pilfer'd the alms o' the poor ; 
The timmer is scant when ye're ta'en for a saint, 

Wha should swing in a rai^ for an hour. 

Calvin's sons, Calvin's sons, seize your sp'ritual guns. 

Ammunition ^ ^u never can need ; 
Your hearts are the stuff will be powther enough. 

And your skulls are storehouses o' lead. 

Poet Burns, Poet Burns, wi' your pries t-skelping turns. 

Why desert ye your auld native shire ? 
You muse is a gipsie, e'en tho' she were tipsie. 

She cou'd ca' us nae waur than we are 



ADDRESS TO THE TOOTHACHE. 

WHITTEX WHEN THE AUTHOR WAS GRIEVOUSLY TORMEN'TED BY THAT JildGB.Ob'^. 

Mt curse upon your venom'd stang, Wi' pitying moan : 

That shoots my tortur'd gums alang ; But tliee — thou hell o' a' diseases, 
And thro' my lugsgies monieatwang, Ay mocks our groan I 

Wi' gnawing vengeance ; 
Tearing '"y^^.^-v- ™r ^^^^^^ ^^^ 

^ *= I throw the wee stools o er the mickl^ 

When fevers burn, or ague freezes, As rcunc^ the fire the giglets keckle 
Rheumatics gnaw, or cholic squeezes ; To see me ioup ; 

Our neighbour's sympathy may eq,se While, raving mad, I wish a heckle 
U3, Were iu their doup. 



1 i WRITTEX WITH A PENCIL. 

0' a' the numerous human dools, In dreadfu* raw, 

111 har'sts, daft bargains, cutty Thou, Toothache, surely bear'st the 

stools, — bell 

Or worthy friends rak'd i' the mools, Amang them a* 1 

Sad sight to see ! 

The tricks o' knaves, or fash o' fools, ^ ,, . - ■, ■ ^ ^ • i . i 

Ti,^,, T^»o,.'et tiw^ n-v w. ^ t^^c>u grim mischief-makingchiel, 

iliou Dear st tne 2,roe. m ♦ .i , t ■>• °j i 

^ Ihat gars the notes ot discord squeel 

Where'er that place be priests ca' hell. Till dai't m.-nikind aft dance a reel 
Whence a' the tones o' mis'ry j^ell. In gore a shoe-thick ;^ 

And ranked plagues their numbers Gie a' the facs o' Scotland's v.-eal 
tell, A towmout's Toothache 



WRITTEN WITH A PENCIL 

OTEB TUB CillMNEY-PIECK IN THE PAliLOUR OF TUE INN AT KENMORE, TATHOCTH. 

Admiring Nature in her wildest grace. 

These northern scenes with weary feet I trace ; 

O'er many a winding. dale and painful steep, 

Th' abodes of covey'd grouse and timid sheep. 

My savage journe3% curious, I pursue. 

Till fam'd Breadalbane opens to my view. — 

The meeting cliifs each deep-sunk glen divides. 

The woods,"\viid seatter'd, clothe tiieir ample sides ; 

Th' outstrc^tching lake, embosom'd 'mong the hills. 

The eye with wonder and amazement fills ; 

The I'ay meand ring sv/eetin infant piide, 

The palace rising on his verdant side ; 

The lav/us wood-fringed in Nature's native taste 

The hillocks dropt in Nature's careless hnste ; 

The arches striding o'er the new-born slream ; 

The village, e:littering in the noontide beam — 



Poetic ardours in my bosom swell, 

Lone wanil'ring by the hermit's mossy cell : 

The sv.eeping theatre of hanging woods ; 

Th' incessant roar of headlong tumbling floods- 



Here Poesy might wake her huav'n-taught lyre, 

And looli through Nature with creative fire ; 

Here, to the wrongs of Fate half reconcil'd, 

Mlsfort\;ne's lighten'd steps miilit wander wild ; 

And Disappointment, in these lonely bounds, 

Find balm to sooth her bitter, rankling wounds : 

Here heart-struck Gri.t might heav'nward stretch her scail, 

And injur'd Worth r.orget and pardon man. 



aECOMD EPISTLE TO DAVIE. 



Ill 



OK THE BIRTH OF A POSTHUMOUS CHILD, 

EOnX IN PECULIAR CIRCUMSTANCES OF FAIIILY DISTRESS. 



Sweet flow'ret, pledge o' meikle love. 
And ward o' inoiiy a prayer, 

What lie:irt o' stane wad thou na move, 
Sae helpless' sweet, and fair, 

November liirples o'er the lea. 
Chill, ou thy lovely form ; 

And gane, alas ! the shelt'ring tree, 
Should shield thee frae the storm. 

May He who gives the rain to pour, 
And wings tlie blast to blaw, 

Protect thee frae the driving show'r, 
The bitter frost and snaw. 



May He, the friend of woe and want 
Who heals life's various stounds, 

Protect and guard the motliei plant. 
And heal her cruel wounds. 

But late she flourish'd, rooted fast, 
Fair in the summer morn : 

Now, feebly bends she in the blast, 
Uushelter'd and forlorn. 

Biest be thy bloom, thou lovely gem 
Unscath'd by ruffian hand ! 

And from thee many a parent stem 
Arise to deck our land. 



WRITTEN WITH A PENCIL. 

STANDING BY THE FALL OP FYERS. NEAR LOCH NESS,. 

Among the heathy hills and ragged woods 

The roaring Fyers pours his mossy floods ; 

Till full he dashes on the rocky mounds, 

Where, ihro' a shapeless breacij, his stream resounds. 

As high in air the bursting torrents flow, 

As deep recoiling surges foam below, 

Prone down the rock the whitening siieet descends. 

And viewless Echo's ear, astonished, rends. 

Dim-seen, thro' rising mists and ceaseless show'rs, 

The hoary cavern, wide-surrounding, low'rs, 

Still, thro' the gap the struggling river toils. 

And still, below, the horrid cauldron boils — 



SECOND EPISTLE TO DAYIE, A BROTHER POET. 

Aui D NEEBOR, Hale be your heart, hale be your 5d 
I I'm throe times doubly o'er your die ;' 

debtor. Lnng mav your elbuck jink and did- 
For yoiu- iii'd-farrant, fren'ly letter ; die, ' 

Txio' I maun say't, I doubt ye flatter, To cheeryou through the weary widdlo 
\ Ye speak sae fair. O' war'ly cares, 

\ y t?? my puir, silly, rhymin clatter Till bairns' bairns kindly cuddle 
I Sqit^? 1p^? ?liaun sair. y9'4i" auld gray hairs, 



112 



THE INVENTORY, 



But Davie, lad, I'm red ye're glaikit ; 
I'm tauld the Muse ye hae negleckit ; 
And gif it's sae, ye sud be licket 

Until ye fyke ; 
Sic hauns as you sud ne'er be f aikit. 

Be hain't wha like, 

For me, I'm on Parnassus' brink, 
Rivin' the words to gar them clink ; 
Whyles daez't wi' love, whyles daez't 
wi' drink, 

Wi' jads or masons ; 
An' whyles, but aye owre late, I think 

Braw sober lessons. 

Of a' the thoughtless sons o' man, 
Commend me to the Bardie clan ; 
Except it be some idle plan 

O' rhymin clink. 
The devil-haet, that I sud ban. 

They ever think. 



Nae thought, nae view, nae scheme o 

livin', 
Nae cares to gie us joy or grievin' ; 
But just the pouchie put the nieve in, 

An' while ought's there, 
Then hiltie skiltie, we gae scrievin'. 

An' fash nair mair. 

Leeze me on rhyme ! it's aye a treasure. 
My chief, amaist my only pleasure. 
At hame, a-fiel', at wark or leisure, 

The Muse, poor hizzie I 
Tho' rough an' raploch be her measure. 

She's seldom lazy. 

Hand to the Muse, my dainty Davie ; 
The warl' may play you monie a 

shavie ; 
But for the Muse, she'll never leave ye^ 

Tho' e'er sae puir, 
Ka, even tho' limpin' wi' the spavie 

Frae door tae door. 



THE INVENTORY, 



nr 



ANSWER TO THE USUAL MANDATE SENT BT A SURVEYOR OF THE TAXES, REQUIRING A 
RETURN OF THE NUMBER OF HORSES, SERVANTS, CARRIAGES, ETC., KEPT. 



Sir, as your mandate did request, 
I send you here a faithfu' list, 
O' gudes an' gear, an' a' my graith. 
To which I'm clear to gi'e my aith. 
Imprimis then, for carriage cattle, 
I have four brutes o' gallant mettle. 
As ever drew afore a pettle ; 
My han' afore's a gude auld has-been, 
An' wight an' wilfu' a' his days been ; 
My han' ahins a weel gaun tillie. 
That aft has borne me hame frae 

Killie, 
An' your auld burrough monie a time, 
In days when riding was nae crime — 
But ance whan in my wooing pride 
I like a blockhead boost to ride. 
The wilfu' creature sae I pat to, 
(Lord, pardon a' my sins an' that 

too !) 
I play'd my tillie sic a shavie, 
She's a' bedevild wi' the spavie. 
My furr-ahin's a wordy beast. 
As e'er in tug or tow was trac'd, — 
The fourth's, a Highland Donald 

hastie, 
A damn'd red-"^ud Kilburnie blastie, 



Foreby a Cowte, o' Cowte's the wale. 

As ever ran afore a tail ; 

If he be spar'd to be a beast, 

He'll draw me fifteen pun at least. — 

Wheel carriage I ha'e but few, 
Three carts, an' twa are feckly new ; 
Ae auld wheelbarrow, mair for token, 
Ae leg, an' baith the trams, are 

broken ; 
I make a poker o' the spin'le. 
An' my auld mother brunt the trin'le. 
For men, I've three mischievous 

boys, 
Run de'ils for rantin' an' for noise ; 
A gaudsman ane, a thrasher t'other. 
Wee Davock bauds the nowte in 

fotlier. 
I rule them as I ought discreetly, 
An' often labour them completely. 
An' ay on Sundays duly nightl}'", 
I on the questions tairge them tightly ; 
Till faith, wee Davock's grown sae 

Tho' scarcely langer than my leg. 
He'll screed you aff Effectual Calling, 
As fast asonie in the dwall'ng.— . 



THE WHISTLE, 113 

I've nane in female ser van* station, And now. remember, Mr. Aiken^ 

! Lord keep me ay f rae a' temptation ! ) Nae kind of license out Fm takin' ; 

. ha'e naewife, and that mj^ bliss is, Frae this time forth, I do declare, 

An' ye have laid nae tax on misses ; I'se ne'er ride liorse uor hizzie mair ; 

An' then if kirk folks dinua clutch me, Thro' dirt and dub for life I'll paidle, 

I ken the devils dare na touch me. Ere I sae dear pay for a saddle ; 

AVi' weans I'm mair than weel con- My travel a' on foot I'll shank it, 

tented, I' ve sturdy bearers, Gude be thankit !— 

Heav'n sent me ane mae than I The Kirk an" you may tak' you that 

wanted. It puts but little in your pat ; 

iy sonsie smirking dear-bought Bess, Sae dinna put me in your buke. 

She stares the daddy in her face, Kor for my ten v/hite shillings luke,. 
Enough of ought ye like but grace. This list wi' my ain lian' I wrote it. 

But her, my bonie sweet wee lady. Day an' date as under notit : 

I've paid enough for her already, Then know all ye whom it concerns. 

An' gin ye tax her on her mitheV, Subscripsi huic, 
B' the lord, ye'se get them a' thegither. Robekt Burns, 

Mosssgiel^ 
February £2. 1785- 

THE WHISTLE. 

A BALLAD. 

1 BiNa of a "Whistle, a Whistle of worth, 

I sing of a Whistle, the pride of the North, 

Was brought to the court of our good Scottish king, 

And long with this Whistle all Scotland shall ring. 

Old Loda, still rueing the arm of Fingal, 
The god of the bottle sends down from his hall — 
** This Whistle's your challenge, in Scotland get o'er. 
And drink them to hell, Sir, or ne'er see me more I " 

Old poets have sung, and old chronicles tell. 
What champions ventur'd what champions fell ; 
The son of great Loda was conqueror still, 
And blew on the Whistle their requiem shrill. 

Till Robert, the lord of the Cairn and the Scaur, 
Unmatch'd at the bottle, unconquer'd in war. 
He drank his poor god-ship as deep as the sea. 
No tide of the Baltic e'er drunker than he. 

Thus Robert, victorious, the trophy has gain'd, 
Which now in his house has for ages remain'd ; 
Till three noble chieftains, and all of his blood. 
The jovial contest again have renew 'd. 

Three joyous good fellows, with hearts clear of flaw ; 
Craigdarroch, so famous for wit, worth, and law ; 
And trusty Gleniiddel, so skill'd in old coins ; 
And gallant Sir Robert, deep-read in old wines. 

Craigdarroch began, with a tongue smooth as oil^ 
P^rin^ Gleni'iddel to ^ield up the spojl ; 



114 TUE WmSTLE. 

Or else he would muster the heads of the clai:i, 
And once more, in claret, try which was the man. 

■' By the gods of the ancients 1 " Glenriddel replies, 
** Before I surrender so glorious a prize, 
I'll conjure tlie ghost of the great Rorie More, 
And bumper his horn with him twenty times o'er." 

Sir I^obert, a soldier, no speech would pretend, 
But he ne'er turu'd his back on his foe — or his friend. 
Said, toss down the AVhistle, the prize of the field. 
And knee-deep in claret, he'd die ere he'd yield. 

To the board of Glenriddel our heroes repair. 

So noted for drowning of sorrow and care ; 

But for wine and for welcome not more known to fame. 

Than the sense, wit, and taste of a sweet lovely dame. 

A bard was selected to witness the fray, 
And tell future ages the feats of the day ; 
A bard who detested all sadness and spleen. 
And wish'd that Parnassus a vineyard had been. 

The dinner being over, the claict they ply. 

And ev'ry new cork is a new spring of joy ; 

In the bands of old friendship and kindre'd so set, 

And the bands grew the tighte. the more they were wet. 

Gay Pleasure ran riot as bumpers ran o'er ; 
Bright Phccbus ne'er witness'd so joyous a core, 
And vow'd that to leave them he was quite forlorn. 
Till Cynthia hinted he'd see them next morn 

Six bottles a-piece had well wore out the night, 
When gallant Sir Ivobert, to finish the fight, 
Turn'do'er in one bumper a bottle of red, 
And swore 'twas the way that their ancestors did. 

Then worthy Glenriddel, so cautious and sage. 
No longer the warfare ungodly would wage ; 
A high ruling elder to wallow in wine 1 
He left the foul business to folkfe less divine. 

The gallant Sir Robert fought hard to the end ; 
But who can with Fate and quart bumpers contend ? 
Though Fate said, a hero should perish in light ; 
So up rose bright Phoebus — and down fell the night. 

ISTcxt up rose our bard, like a prophet in drink : 
" Craigdarroch, thou'lt soar when creation shall sink; 
But if thou would flourish immortal in rhyme. 
Come — one 1 ottle more — and have at the sublime i 

•' Thy line, tl at have struggled for freedom with Bruce. 

Sha'.l heroes tnd patriots ever produce : 

So thine be the laurel, and mine be tlie bay : 

Tlie field thou hast won, b^ you bright god of day 1 " 



SKETCH. 115 



SKETCH. 

INSCRIBSID TO THE EIGHT HON. C. J. FOX. 

How Wisdom and Folly meet, mix, and unite • 
How Virtue and Vice blend their black and their white • 
How Genius, th' illustrious father of fiction, ' 

Confounds rule and law, reconciles contradiction — 
I sing ; If these mortals, the Critics, should bustle, 
I care not, not I — let the Critics go whistle ! 

But now for a Patron, whose name and whose glory. 
At once may illustrate and honor my story. 

Thou, first of our orators, first of our wits ; 

Yet whose parts and acquirements seem just lucky hits ; 

With knowledge so vast, and with judgment so strong * 

No man, with the half of 'em, e'er could sio wrong . 

With passions so potent, and fancies so bright. 

No man with Ihe half of 'em e'er could go rio'lit • 

A sorry, poor, t.iisbcgot son of the Muses, ° 

For using thy nanie offers fifty excuses. 

Good Lord, what i? ni'^.n ) for as simple he looks. 

Do but try to develop hi^ hooks and liis crooks, 

With his depths and his shallows, his good and his evil. 

All in all, he's a problem mu^t puzzle the devil. 

On his one ruling. Passion Sir Pope hugely labours. 

That, like th' old Hebrew walking-swit'ch^ eats up its nei"-hbo^ 

.dankmd are his show-box — a irieul, would ycu know him ? 

Pull the string. Ruling Passion, the oicture ^'"iH s.Vot^^ him 

What pity, in rearing so beauteous a sysiem. 

One trifling particular. Truth, should have missd liim I 

For, spite of his fine theoretic positions. 

Mankind is a science defies definitions. 

Some sort all our qualities each to his tribe. 

And think Human-nature they truly describe ; 

Have you found this, or t other ? there's more in the V'ii?4 

As by one drunken fellow his comrades you'll find. 

But such is the flaw, or the depth of the plan 

In the make of the wonderful creature call'd Man 

No two virtues, whatever relation they claim, ' 

Nor even two different shades of the same, 

Though like as was ever twin-brother to brother 

Possessing the one shall imply you've the other. 

But truce with abstraction, and truce with a muse 
Whose rhymes you'll perhaps, Sir, ne'er deign to peru«e 
Will you leave your justings, your jars, and your quarrels, 
Contendmg with Billy for proud-nodding laurels t 
My much-honour'd Patron, believe your poor Poet 
Your courage much more than your prudence you show it 
In vain with Squire Billy for laurels 30 u struggle 
He'll have them bj fair trade, if not he will smuggle • 



116 



PROLOGUE. 



Kot cabinet^ ere^ of klugs would conceal 'em, 
He'd up the b:ick-stairs, and by G — be would steal 'em. 
Then feats like Squire Billy's you ne'er can achieve 'em. 
It is not, outdo him — the tttsk is. out-thieve him. 



TO DR. BLACKLOCK. 

ELLIEI.AXD, 2l4T OCT., 1789. 



Wow,but your \ei\/^- jB?/^e me vaunt ie ! 
And are ye hale, andweel, andcautie? 
I kenn'd it still your wee bit jauntie 

Wad bring ye to : 
Lord send you ay as weel's I want ye. 

And then ye' 11 do. 

The ill-tln'ef blaw the Heron south ! 
And never drink be near his drouth ! 
He tald mysel by word o' mouth. 

He'd tak my ktter ; 
I lippen'd to the chicl in trouth, 

And bade nae better. 



But aiblins honest Master Heron 
Had at the time some dainty fair one. 
To ware his theologic care on, 

And holy study ; 
And tir'd o' sauls to waste his lear on, 

E'en tried the body. 

Biv what d'ye think, my trusty fier, 
I'll, turn'd a ganger — Peace be here ! 
Parnassian queens, I fear, I fear 

Ye'll now disdain me ! 
And then my fifty pounds a year 
' Will little gain me. 

Ye glaiket, gleesome, dainty damies, 
Wha by Castalia's wimplin' strcamies, 
JLowp, sing, and lave your pretty lim- 
bics. 

Ye ken, ye ken, 
Chat Strang necessity supreme is 

'Mrpg sons o' men. 



1 hae a wife and twa wee hiddies, 
They maun hae brose and brats o 

dud dies ; 
Ye ken yoursels my heart right proijta 
is — 

I need na vaunt. 
But I'll sued besoms — thriiiv/ saugi* 
woodies. 

Before they wo at. 

Lord help me thro' this warld o' care ! 
I'm weary sick o't late and air 1 
Not but I hae a richer share 

Than monie itlicrs ; 
But why should ae man better fare. 

And a' men brithers ? 

Come, Firm Resolve, take thou the 

van, 
Thou stalk o' carl-hemp in man ! 
And let us mind, faint heart ne'er wan 

A lady fair ; 
Wlia does the utmost that he can. 

Will whyles do mak. 

But to conclude my silly rhyme, 
(I'm scant o' verse,' and scant o' time ; 
To make a happy fire-side clime 

To weans and wife. 
That's the true pathos and sublime 

Of human life. 

My compliments to sister Beckie ; 
And eke the same to honest Lucky, 
I wat she is a daintie chuckie. 

As e'er tread clay I 
And gratefully, n:y guid auld cockie. 

Lm yours for ay. 

.Robert JBurks. 



PROLOGUE. 

|l^}KEN A. THE THEATRE, DUMFRIES, ON NEW YEAr's DAT EVENING. [1730. 

Ko song nor dance I bring from yon great city 
That queens it o'er our taste — the more's the pitv • 
Tho', by-the-by, abroad why will you roam ? 
&oo^ sepse and taste are natives here at Jioics 



ON THE LATE MISS BXTBNET. '^^"^ 

But not for panegyric I appear, 

I come to wish you all a i;ood new-year I 

Old Father Time deputes me here before ye, 

Not for to preach, but tell his simple story : 

The sage grave ancient cough'd, and bade me saj, 

*• You're one year older this important day." 

If wiser too— he hinted some suggestion. 

But 'twould be rude, you know, to ask the question ; 

And with a would-be roguish leer and wink. 

He bade me on you press this one word—" Think I ^ ^ 

Ye sprightly youths, quite flush with hope and spirit. 
Who think to storm the world by dint of merit, 
To you the dotard has a deal to say, 
In his sly, dry, setentious, proverb way ! 
He bids you mind, amid your thoughtless rattle. 
That the first blow is ever half the battle ; 
That tho' some by the skirt may try to snatch him. 
Yet by the forelock is the hold to catch him ; 
That whether doing, suffering, or forbearing, 
You may do miracles by persevering. 

Last, tho' not least in love, ye youthful fair. 
Angelic forms, high Heaven's peculiar care ! 
To you old Bald-pate smooths his wrinkled brow. 
And humbly begs you'll mind the important— A^t^w / 
To crown your happiness he asks your leave. 
And offers bliss' to give and to receive. 

For our sincere, tho' haply weak endeavours, 
"With grateful pride we own your many favours ; 
And howsoe'er our tongues may ill reveal it, 
Believe our glowing bosoms truly feel it. 



ELEGY OK THE LATE MISS BURNETT, 

OF MONBODDO. 

Life ne'er exulted in so rich a prize 

As Burnet, lovely from her native skies ; 

Nor envious death so triumph'd in a blow, 

As that which laid th' accomplish'd Burnet lo-w. 

Thy form and mind, sweet maid, can I forget ? 

In richest ore the brightest jewel set ! 

In thee, high Heaven above was truest shown, 

And by his noblest work the Godhead best is known 

In vain ye flaunt in sumraevs pnde, ye groves ; 

Thou crystal streamlet with thy flowery shore. 
Ye woodland choir that chant your idle loves, 

Ye cease to charm— Eliza is no more 1 

Ye heathy wastes, immix'd with reedy fens ; 

Ye mossy streams, with sedge and rushes stor d ; 
Ye rugged cliffs o'crhanging dreary glens. 

To you I fly, ye with my soul accord. 



118 



TO A GENTLEMAN. 



Princes, T/liose cumbrous pride was all their worth 
Shall venal lays their pompous exit hail ? 

And thou, sweet excellence ! forsake our earth. 
And not a Muse in honest grief bewail ? 

We saw thee shine in youth and beauty's pride. 
And virtue's light, that beams beyond the spheres 

But like the sun eclips'd at morning tide, 
Thou left'st us darkling in a world of tears. 

The parent's heart that nestled fond in thee, 
That heart how sunk, a prey to grief and care ; 

So deckt the woodbine sweet yon aged tree, 
So from it ravish'd, leaves it bleak and bare. 



THE FOLLOWING POEM WAS WRITTEN 



fO A GENTLEMAN WHO HAD SENT HIM A NEWSPAPER, AND OFFERED TO 
CONTINUE IT FREE OF EXPENSE. 



read 



your paper 

'twas really new ! 
Sir, what maist I 



Ke\>u Sir, I've 

tiirough, 
A ad, failh, to me, 
iioiv guess'd ye, 

wanted ? 
Tl,is monie a day I've grain'd and 

gaunted. 
To ken what French mischief was 

brewin' ; 
Or what the drumlie Dutch were 

doin' ; 
That vile doup-skelper, Emperor 

Joseph, 
If Yenus yet had got his nose off ; 
Or how the collieshangie works 
Atween the Russians and the Turks ; 
Or if the Swede, before he halt, 
\Vould play anither Charles the Twalt : 
II Denmark, any body spak o't ; 
Or Poland, wha had now the tack o't ; 
ilow cut throat Prussian blades were 

hingin ; 
How libbet Italy was singin ; 
If Spaniard, Portuguese, or Swiss, 
• Were sayin or takin aught amiss : 
Or how our merry lads at hame, 
m Britain's court, kept up the game : 
flow royal Georgti, the Lord leuk o'er 

him ! 
Was managing St. Stephen's quorum ;_ 



If slcekit Chatham Will was livin. 
Or glaikit Charlie got his nieve in ; 
How dad die Burke the plea waa 

cookin, 
If Warren Hastings neck was yeukin ; 
How cesses, stents, and fees were rax'd, 
Or if bare a-s yot were tax'd' ; 
The news o' princes, dukes, and carls, 
Pimps, sharpers, bawds, and opera- 
girls ; 
If that daft Buckie, Geordie Wales, 
Was threshin still at hizzies' tails ; 
Or if he was grown oughtlins douser. 
And no a perfect kintra cooser. — 
A' this and mair I never heard of ; 
And, but for you, I might despnir'd of. 
So gratefu',back your news I send you. 
And pray a' guid things may attend 

you ! 
Ellisland, Monday Morning, 1790. 

^Remonstrance to the Gentleman to whom 
the foregoing Poem icas addressed. 

Dear Peter, dear Peter, 
We poor sons of metre 

Are often negleckit, ye ken ; 
For instance, your sheet, man, 
(Though glad I'm to see't, man,) 

I get it no ae daj in ten. — R. B. 



TBB RIGHTS OP ^VOMAir 



lid 



LINES ON AN INTERVIEW WITH LORD DAER, 



This wot ye all whom it concerns, 
I, Rhymer Robin, alias Burns, 

October twenty-third, 
i ^i^.'er lo be forgotten day, 
5ae far I sprachled up the brae, 

I dinner'd wi' a Lord. 

I've been at druken writers' feasts, 
Nay, been bitch-fou 'mang godly 
priests, 

Wi' rev'rence be it spoken ; 
I've even join'd the houour'd jorum. 
When mighty Squireshij)s of the cjuo- 
rum 

Their hydra drouth did sloken. 

But wi' a Lord — stand out my shin ; 
A Lord — a Peer — an Earl's son, 

Up higlier yet, my bonnet ! 
And sic a Lord — lang Scotch ells twa, 
Our F ;ernge he o'erlooks them a', 

As I look o'er my sonnet. 
But, O for Hogarth's magic pow'r ! 
lo show Sir Bardie's willy art glow'r, 
And how he star'd and stam- 
mev'd. 



When goavan, as if led wi' branks. 
An' stumpin on his ploughman shanks, 
He in the parlor hamnier'd. 

I sidling shelter'd in a nook, 
An' at his Lordship steal't a look. 

Like some portentous omen ; 
Except good sense and social glee. 
An' (what surprised me) modesty, 

I marked nought unconmion 

I watch 'd the symptoms o' the Greas, 
The gentle pride, the lordly state, 

The arrogant assuming ; 
The fient a pride, nae pride had he, 
Nor sauce, nor state that I could see, 

Mair than an honest plough 
man. 

Then from his Lordship I shall learn, 
Henceforth to meet with unconcern 

One rank as w eel's another ; 
Nae honest wortl.iy man need care 
To meet with noble youthful Daer, 

For he but meets a brother 



THE RIGHTS OF WOMAN. 

PROLOGUE SPOKEN BY MISS FONTENELLE ON HEH BENEFIT-NIGHT. [nOV. 26, 1708.] 

While Europe's eye is fix'd on mighty tilings. 
The fate of Empires and the fall of Kings ; 
While quacks of State must each produce his plan. 
And even children lisp The Rights of Man ; 
Amid the mighty fuss just let me mention. 
The Rights of Woman merit some attention. 

First, in the Sexes' intermix'd connection , 
One sacred Right of Woman is, Protection. 
The tender flower that lifts its head, elate, 
Helpless, must fall before the blasts of Fate, 
Sunk on the earth, defac'd its lovely form, 
Unless your shelter ward th' impending storm. 

Our second Right— but needless here is caution. 
To keep that Right inviolate's the fashion, 
Each man of sense has it so full before him. 
He'd die before he'd wrong it — 'tis Decorum. 
.There was, indeed, in far less polish 'd days, 
A time, when rough rude men hdd naughty ways j 
Would swagger, swear, get drunk, kick up a riot. 
Nay, even thus invade a Lady's quiet 1 



120 MTSS FONTENELLE. 

Now, thank our stars ! those Gothic times are fled j 
Kow, well-bred men — and you are all well-bred ! 
Most justly think (and we are much the gainers) 
Such conduct neither spirit, wit, nor manners. 
For Right tlie third, our last, our best, our deares* 
That Right to fluttering female hearts the nearest 
Which even the Rights of Kings in low prostratio^ 
Most humbly own — 'tis dear, dear Admiration 1 
In that blest sphere alone we li\e and move ; 
There ta-te tliat life of life— immortal love. 
Sighs, tears, smiles, glances, tits, flirtations, airs, 
'Gainst such an host what flinty savage dares — 
When awful Bcaut}^ joins with all her charms. 
Who is so rash as rise in rebel arms ? 

Then truce with kings, and truce with constitutions. 
With bloody armaments and revolutions 1 
Let Majesty your lirst attention summon. 
Ah I ?a ira 1 The Majesty of Woman 1 



ADDRESS SPOKEN BY MISS FONTENELLE, 

ON HEB BENEFIT-NIGHT, DECEMBER 4, 1795, 
AT THE THEATBE, DUMFRIES. 

Still anxious to secure your partial favour. 
And not less anxious, sure, this night, than ever, 
A Prologue, Epilogue, or some such matter, 
'Twould vamp my "bill, said I, if nothing better ; 
So sought a Poet,*^ roosted near the skies. 
Told him I came to feast my curious eyes ; 
Said, nothing like his works was ever printed ; 
And last, my Prologue-business slily hinted. 
" Ma'am, let me tell you," quoth my man of rhymes, 
" I know your bent— these are no laughing times : 
Can you— but. Miss, I own I have my fears-^ 
Dissolve in pause— and sentimental tears ? 
Witli laden sighs, and solemn-rounded sentence, 
Rouse from his sluggish slumbers fell Repentance ; 
Paint verigeance as lie takes his horrid stand, 
Waving on high the desolating brand. 
Calling the storms to bear him o'er a guilty land ?" 

I could no more — askance the creature e3T'ing, 
D'ye think, said I, this face was made for crying ? 
I'll laugh, that's poz— nay, more, the world shall know i% } 
And so, your servant ! gloomy Master Poet ! 

Firm as my creed, Sirs, 'tis my fix'd belief. 
That ]\[i.ser3^'s another word for Grief; 
I also tliink — so may I be a bride ! 
That so much laughter, so much life enjoy'd. 

Thou man of crazy care and ceaseless sigk. 
Still under bleak ^Misfortune's blasting eye ; 
Doom'd to that sorest task of man alive — 
To make three guineas do the work of five ; 



POEM OW PASTORAL POETRY. 1^1 

Laugh in Misfortune's face — the beldam witch I 
Say, you'll be meriy, tho' you can't be rich. 

Thou other man of care, the wretch in love, 
Who long with jiltish arts and airs hast strove ; 
Who, as the boughs all temptingly project, 
Measur'st in desperate thought — a rope — thy neck—* 
Or, where the beetling cliif o'erhangs the deep, 
Peerest to meditate the healing leap : 
Wouldst thou be cur'd, thou silly, moping elf ? 
Laugh at her follies — laugh e'en at thyself : 
Learn to despise those frowns now so terrific. 
And love a kinder — that's your grand specific. 

To sum up all, be merry, I advise ; 
And as we're merry, may we still be wise. 



VERSES TO A YOUNG LADY, 

WITH A PRESENT OF SONGS. 

Hetie, where the Scottish Muse immortal lives, 
In sacred strains and tuneful numbers join'd. 

Accept the gift ; tho' humble he who gives. 
Rich is the tribute of the grateful mind. 

So may no ruffian-feeling in thy breast 
Discordant jar thy bosom-chords among \ 

But Peace attune thy gentle soul to rest. 
Or Love, ecstatic, wake his seraph song 1 

Or Pity's notes, in luxury of tears. 
As modest Want the tale of woe reveals ; 

While conscious Virtue all the strain endears. 
And heaven-born Piety her sanction seals I 



POEM ON PASTORAL POETRY. 

Hail, Poesie ! thou ISTymph reserv'd ! In Homer's craft Jock Milton thrives ; 

In chase o' thee, what crowds hae Eschylus' pen Will Shakespeare drives; 

swerv'd Wee Pope, the knurlin, 'till him rives 
Frae common sense, or sunk enerv'd Horatian fame ; 

'Mang heaps o' clavers ; In thy sweet sang, Barbauld, survives 
And och ! o'er aft thy joes hae starv'd. Even Sappho's flame. 

'Mid a' thy favours ! ^ r^, . , , 

But thee, Theocritus, wha matches ? 

Say, Lassie, why thy train amang, They're no herd's ballats, Maro's 
While loud the trump's heroic clang, catches ; 

And sock or buskin skelp alang Squire Pope but busks his skinklin 

To death or marriage ; patches 

Scarce ane has tried the shepherd- O' heathen tatters : 

sang I pass by hunders, nameless wretches, 
But wi' miscarriage? That ape their betters. 



122 



TO MR. WILLIAM TTTLER. 



£n this braw age o' wit and lear, 
"^Vill naue the Shepherd's whistle 

mail' 
Bhiw sweetly in its native air 

And rural grace ; 
A-iid wi' the far-fani'd Grecian share 

A rival place ? 

Yes ! there is ane ; a Scottish callan — 
There's ane ; come forrit, honest 

Allan ! 
Thou need na jouk behint the hallan, 

A chiel sae clever ; 
The teeth o' Time may gnaw Tam- 
tallan. 

But thou's for ever ! 

Thou paints auld Nature to the nines. 
In thy sweet Caledonian lines ; 
Nae gowden stream thro' myrtles 
twines. 



Where Philomel, 
While nightly breezes sweep the vines; 



Where bonie lasses bleach their claesj 
Or trots by haze 11}^ shaws and braes, 

Wi' hawthorns gray, 
Where blackbirds join tlie shej 'herd's 
lays 

At close o' day. 

Thy rural loves are nature's sel' ; 
Nae bombast spates o' nonsense swell ; 
Nae snap conceits ; but that sweet 
spell 

O' witchin' love ; 
That charm that can the strongest 
quell, 

The sternest mcve. 



WRITTEN ON THE BLANK LEAF OF THE LAST EDITION 
OF HIS POEMS, 



PRESENTED TO THB LADT WHOM HE HAD OFTEV CELEBRATED UNDER THE NAME 
OP CHLORIS. 



Tis Friendship's pledge, my young 
fair friend, 

Nor thou the gift refuse. 
Nor with unwiliing ear attend 

The moralizing Muse. 

Since thou, in all thy youth and 
charms. 
Must bid the world adieu, 
(A world 'gainst peace in constant 
arms) 
To join the friendly few. 

Since, thy gay morn of life o'ercast. 
Chill came the tempest's lower, 

(And ne'er misfortune's eastern blast 
Did nip a fairer flower.) 



Since life's gay scenes must charm no 
more. 

Still much is left Dchind : 
Still nobler wealth hast thou in store— 

The comforts of the mind ! 

Thine is the self-approving glow. 
On conscious honours part ; 

And, dearest gift of heaven beloWj 
Thine friendship's truest heart. 

The joys refin'd of sense and taste, 

With every muse to rove : 
And doubly were the poet blest. 

These joys could he improve, 



POETICAL ADDRESS TO MR. WILLIAM TYTLER, 

WITH THE PRESENT OP THE BARD'S PICTUKB. 

Revehed defender of beauteous Stuart, 

Of Stuart, a name once respected, 
A name, wiiich to love, was the mark of a true hearty 

But now 'tis despisd and neglected. 



NEW TEAR DAT. 123 

Tho* something like moisture conglobes in my eye, 

Let no one misdeem me disloyal ; 
A poor friendless wand'rer may well ckiim a sigh, 

Still more, if that wand'rer were royal. 

My fathers that name have rever'd on a throne ; 

My fathers have fallen to right it ; 
Those fathers v.ould spurn their degenerate son. 

That name should he scofhugly slight it. 

Still in prayers for King George I most heartil}^ join 

The Queen, and the rest of the gentry. 
Be they wise, be they foolish, is nothing of mine ; 

Their title's avow'd by my country. 

But why of this epocha make such a fuse, 

That gave us the Hanover stem ? 
If bringing them over was lucky for us, 

I'm sure 'twas as lucky for them. 

But, loyalty, truce ! we're on dangerous ground. 

Who knows how the fashions may alter ? 
The doctrine, to-day, that is loyalty sound. 

To-morrow may bring us a halter. 

I send you a trifle, a head of a bard, 

A trifle scarce worthy your care ; 
But accept it, good Sir, as a mark of regard. 

Sincere as a saint's dying prayer. 

Now life's chilly evening dim shades in your eye. 

And ushers the long dreary night ; 
But you, like the star that athwart gilds the sky. 

Your course to the latest is bright. 

EXTEMPORE, ON MR. WILLIAM SMELLIE, 

AUTHOR OF THE PHILOSOPHY OF NATURAL HISTORY, 
AND MEMKER OF THE ANTIQUARIAN AND ROYAL SOCIETIES OF EDINBURGH, 

To Crocliallan came. 
The old cock'd hat, the grey surtout, the same ; 
His bristling beard just rising in its might, 
'Twas four long nights and days to shaving night; 
His uncomb'd grizzly locks wild staring, thatch'd 
A head for thought profound and clear, unmatch'd 
Yettho' his caustic wit was biting, rude, 
His heart was warm, benevolent, and good. 

SKETCH.— NEW-YEAR DAY. [1790.] 

TO Mrs. DUNLOP. 

This day Time winds th' exhausted I see the old, bald-pated fellow, 

chain, With aMent eyes, complexion sallow 

To run the ttvelvetnonth's length Adjust the unimpair'd machine 

again : To wheel the equal, dull routine. 



124 



MONODT ON A LADY. 



The absent lover, minor heir, 

In vain assail liiin with their prayer. 

Deaf, as my friend, he sees them 
press. 

Nor makes the hour one monent 
less. 

Will you (the Major's with the 
hounds, 

jThe happy tenants share his rounds ; 

jOoiia's fair Haclicl's care to-day, 

,/v.nd blooming Keith's engaged with 
Gray ) 

From housewife cares a minute bor- 
row — 

—That grandchild's cap will do to- 
morrow — 

And join v.ith me a moralizing, 

This day's propitious to be wise in. 
First, what did ye^torniglit de- 
liver ? 

''Another year has gone forever." 

And what is this day's strong sugges- 
tion ? 

" T)ie passing moment's all we rest 
on 1" 

Rest on— for what ? what do we 
here ? 

Or why regard the passing year ? 



"Will Time, amus'd with proverb'd lore^ 
Add to our date one minute more ? 
A few days may, a few j^ears must. 
Repose us in the silent dust ; 
Then is it wise to damp our bliss ? 
Yes — all such reasonings are amiss I 
The voice of Nature loudly cries. 
And many a message from the skies. 
That something in us never dies ; 
That on this frail, uncertain state 
Hang matters of eternal weight ; 
That future-life in worlds unlvnown 
Must take its hue from this alone ; 
^Vhether as heavenly glory bright, 
Or dark as misery's wof ul night. 
Since then, my honor'd, first -'f 
friends, 
On this poor being all depends ; 
Let us th' important Now employ. 
And live as those that never die. 
Tho' you, with days and honors 
crown'd, 
Witness that filial circle round, 
( A sight — life's sorrows to repulse ; 
A sight — pale Envy to convulse ) ; 
Others may claim your chief regar<* 
Tourself, yoa wait your bright re- 
ward. 



IlSrSCRIPTION FOR AK ALTAR 

rO aiDKPENDENCI!, AT KEKROUGIITRT, SEAT Or MR. HEROK, WBITTBN IN SXntOIEB, 179Bw 

Thou of an independent mind, 

■\Villi soul resolv'd, wuth soul resign'd ; 

Prepar'd Power's proudest frown to brave. 

Who wilt not be, nor have a slave ; 

Virtue alone who dost revere, 

Thy own reproach alone dost fear, 

Approach this shrine, and worship here. 



MONODY ON A LADY FAMED FOR HER CAPRICE. 

How cold is that bosom which folly once fired. 

How pale is that cheek where the rouge lately glisteo'd I 

How silent that tongue which the echoes oft tir'd. 
How dull is that car which to flattery so iisten'd 1 

K sorrow and anguish their exit await, 
From friendship and dearest affection removed ; 

How doubly severer, Maria, thy fate. 
Thou diedst unwept, a« thou livedst unlov'd. 



ox MRS. RIDDEL*8 SmTHDAT, 126 

Loves, Graces, and Virtues, I call not on you ; 

So shy, grave, and distant, ye shed not a tear : 
But come, all ye offspring of Folly so true. 
And flowers let us cull "from Maria's cold bier. 

We'll search thro' the garden for each silly fio^wer. 
We'll roam through the forest for each idle ^eed j 

But chiefly the nettle, so typical, shower. 
For none e'er approach'd her but rued the rash deed. 

We'll sculpture the marble, we'll measure the lay ; 

Here Vanity strums on her idiot lyre ; 
There ke^'n Indignation shall dart on her prey, 

V/hicii spurning Contempt shall redeem from his ire. 

THE EPITAPH. 

Here lies, now a prey to insulting neglect, 

vVhat once was a butterfly, gay in life's beam ; 

Want only of wisdom denied her respect, 
Want only of goodness denied her esteem. 

SONNET, ON THE DEATH OF ROBERT RIDDEL, ESQ. 
OF GLENRIDDEL. 

[April, 1794.] 
No more ye warblers of the wood — no more ! 

Nor pour your descant, grating on my soul ; 

Thou young-eyed Spring, gay in thy verdant stole. 
More welcome were to me p-rim Winter's wildest roar. 

How can ye charm, ye flow'rs, with all your dyes ? 

Ye blow upon the sod that wraps my friend : 

How can I to the tuneful strain attend ? 
That strain flows round th' untimely tomb where Riddel lies. 

Yes, pour, ye warblers, pour the notes of woe I 
And sooths the Virtues weeping o'er his bier : 
The Man of Worth, and has not left his peer. 

Is in his ' ' narrow house " for ever darkly low. 

Thee, Spring, again with joys shall others greet ; 
Me, raem'ry of my loss will only meet. 

IMPROMPTU, ON MRS. RIDDEL'S BIRTHDAY, NOYEM- 

BER 4, 1793. 

Old Winter with his frosty beard, Now, Jove, for once be mighty civil, 

Thus once to Jove his prayer pre- To counterbalance all this evil ; 

ferr'd, — Give nie, and I've no more to say, 

" What have I done of all the year. Give me Maria's natal day : 

To boar this hated doom severe ? That brilliant gift will so enrich 

My cheerless p.uiis no pleasure know ; me, 

Niglit's horrid car drags, dreary slow; Spring, Summer, Autumn, cannot 

My vilsmal months no joys are crown- match me." 

ing, *"Tis done I " says Jove : so ends my 

But spjeeny English, hanging, drown- ' story, 

ifl^. . And Winter once rejoic'4 iJi glor/. 



126 



TO MR. STME. 



TO A YOUNG LADY, MISS JESSY LEWARS, DUMFRIES. 

WITH BOOKS WniCD THE BARD PRESENTED HER. [tuNE 2Gtll, 1796.] 

THT^'E be the volumes, Jessy fair, And wakeful caution still a\Y;:re 

And with tliera take the Poet's pray 'r — Of ill— but chief, man's felon snare : 

Tiiat fate may in iier fairest page. All blameless joys on earth we tind, 

Witii every kindliest, best pre.sago And all the treasures of I lie mind — 

*M future bliss, enrol thy name ; These be thy guardian and reward \ 

W Uh native worth, and spotless fame. So prays thy faithful friend, the Bard 



VERSES 



WRI-CTEN UNDER VIOLENT GRIEF. 



Accept the gift a friend sincere 
'.Vatl on thy worth be pressin'; 
1-ieniembrance oft may start a tear, 
L :t oh ! that tenderness forbear, 
Tiiough 'twad my sorrows lessen. 

}\y morning raise sae clear and fair, 

i thought sair storms wad never 
Bedew iho scene ; but grief and care 
In wildest fury hae made bare 
iVly peace, my hope, for ever ) 



You think I'm glad ; oh, I pay weel 

For a' the joy 1 borrow, 
In solitude — then, then i feel 
I canna to mysel' conceal 

My deeply-ranklin' sorrow. 

Farewell ! within thy bosom free 

A sigh may whiles awaken ; 
A tear may Avet thy laughin' ee. 
For Scotia's son — ance gay like thee— 
Now hopeless, comfortless, for 
saken 1 



EXTEMPORE TO MR. SYME, 

ON REFUSING TO DINE WITH HIM, 
4SrrEB HAYINO BEEN PROMISED THE FIRST OF COMPANY, AND THE FIRST OP COOEEBTc 

17 i.h December _ 1795. 
No more of your guests, be they tilled or not. 

And cook'ry the first in the nation ; 
Who is proof to thy personal converse and wit. 

Is proof to all other temptation. 



JmiMtkm, Tavern, 



TO MR. SYME, 

WITH A PRESENT OP A DOZEN OP PORTES, 

O, HAD the malt thy strength of mind. 
Or hops the flavour of thy wit, 

'Twere drink for first of human kind. 
A gift that e'en for Syme were fit. 

Dumfries. 



TO MB. MITCHELL, 125 



SONNET, 

ON HBABmO A THRUSH BING IN A MORNING WALK IN JANUARY, WRITTEN 25tll JANUAET, 1708 
THE BIRTH-DAY OF THE AUTHOR. 

Sing on, sweet Thrush, upon the leafless bough ; 

Sing on, sweet bird. I listen to thy strain : 

See aged Winter, 'mid his surly reign, 
At thy blythe carol clears his furrow'd brow. 

So in lone Poverty's dominion drear 
Sits meek Content with light unanxious heart, 
Welcomes the rapid moments, bids them part, 

i^^or asks if they bring aught to hope or fear. 

I tliank thee, Author of this opening day ! 

Tiiou whose bright sun now gilds the orient skies I 

Riches denied, tli}^ boon was purer joys. 
What wealth could never give nor take aw ay 1 

Yet come, thou child of poverty and care ; 

The mite high Heaven bestow'd, that mite with thee I'll share 



f OEM, ADDRESSED TO MR. MITCHELL, 

COLLECTOR OF EXCISE, DUMFRIES. [DECEMBER, 1795.] 

Frienl. or' the poet, tried and leal, 

Wha, wa.'itmg thee, might beg or steal ; 

^lake, alake, the meikle Deil „«„„,„^ „ 

VYi- a; his witches postscript. 

kxe at it, skelpin ! iig and reel, ^r > i, ^ ^.i • i -i i t> i. 

Li Jy^poor pouches. ^e ve heaixi this while how I've been 

I modestly f u' fain wad hint it. And by fell death was nearly nicket : 

That one pound one, I sairly want it : Grim loon ! he gat me by the feckei, 

If wi' the hizzia down ye sent it, And sair me sheuk ; 

It would be kind ; But by guid luck I lap a wicket, 

And while my heart wi' life-blood And turn'd a neuk. 
dunted, 

I'd bear't in inind. But by that health, I've got a share o't 

3 au] 
ing 



G^ rY>oTT+i,r. o„i.i ^^„« ^« .,* ^.^ Andby that life, I m promised niairot 

bo may the auld year gang out moan- -it i i i ^ yn ^ i >.. ■ 

■^' J 5 6 ^ j^Iy ileal and weal 1 11 take a care o t 

A tentier w;iy : 
"' - - '< 



To see the new come laden, frroaniny:. mi j; i i^n i • j -j i • > 

Wi' double plenty o'er the oanin " ^hen fareweel folly In^e and hair o' 
To thee and thine ; For ance and aye. 



Domestic peace and comforts crowning 
The hale design. 



i28 



TO ROBERT GRAHAM, ESQ. 



SENT TO A GENTLEMAN WHOM HE HAD OFFENDED, 



The friend whom wild from wisdom's 
vray 
The furaes of wine infuriate send ; 
^Not moony madness more astray ; ) 
Who biit deplores that hapless 
friend ? 



Mine was th' insensate frenzied pan, 
Ah, whv should I such scenes out 
nve"? 

Scenes so abhorrent to my heart ! 
'Tis thine to pity and forgive. 



POEM ON LIFE, 

ADDRESSED TO COLONEL DE PEYSTER, DUMFRIES, 1796. 



My honor'd Colonel, deep I feel 
Your interest in the Poet s weal ; 
Ah ! now sma' heart hae I to speel 

The steep Parnassus, 
Surrounded thus by bolus pill, 

And potion glasses. 

Oh, what a canty warld were it, 
Would i")ain, and care, and sickness 

spare it ; 
And fortune favour worth and merit, 

As they deserve : 
(And aye a rowth, roast beef and claret; 

Syne wha wad starve ?) 

Dame Life, tho' fiction out may trick 

her, 
And in paste gems and f ripp'ry deck 

her ; 
Oh ! liick'ring, feeble, and unsicker 

I've found her still, 
Aye yv'av'ring like the willow wicker, 
'Tvreen good and ill. 

Then that curst carmagnole, auld 

Satan, 
*^^atches, like baudrons by a rattan, 
)ur sinfu' saul to get a claut on 

Wi' felon ire ; 
^yne, whip ! his tail ye'll ne'er cast 
saut on. 

He's off like fire. 



Ah Nick ! ah Nick ! it isna fair, 
First shewing us the tempting ware. 
Bright wine and bonnie lasses rare. 

To put us daft ; 
Syne weave, unseen, thy spider snare 

O' liell's damn'd waft. 

Poor man, the Hie, aft bizzies by, 
As aft as chance he comes thee nigh, 
Thy auld damn'd elbow yeuks wi 

joy. 

And hellish pleasure • 
Already in thy fancy's eye, 

Tliy sicker treasure. « 

Soon heels o'er-gowdie ! in he gangs, 
And like a sheep-head on a tangs. 
Thy girning laugh enjoys his pangs 

And nmrd'ring wrestle^ 
As, dangling in the wind, he hangs 

A gibbet's tassel. 

But lest you think I am uncivil . 

To plague you with this diaunting 

drivel. 
Abjuring a' intentions evil, 

I quat my pen : 
The Lord preserve us fi-ae the Devil '• 

Amen ! amen t 



TO ROBERT GRAHAM, ESQ., OF FINTRY, 

ON RECEIVING A FAVOUR. 

I CALL no Goddess to inspire my strains, 
A fabled Muse may suit a Bard that feigns ; 
friend of my life ! my ardent spirit burns. 
And all the tribute of m}'' heart returns, 
F'or boons recorded, goodness ever new, 
fbe ^if t ^iill dearer, as the givei yon. 



VERSES WRITTEN AT SELKIRK. 

Thou orb of day ! thou other paler light I 
And all ye many sparkling stars of night ; 
If aught that giver from my mind efface ; 
If I that giver's bounty e'er disgrace ; 
Then roll to me, along" your wand'ring spheres. 
Only to number out a villain's years I 

EPITAPH ON A FRIEND. 

An honest man here lies at rest, 
As e'er God with his image blest ; 
The friend of man, the friend of truth ; 
The friend of age, and guide of youth : 
Few hearts like him, with virtue warm'd. 
Few hearts witli knowledge so inform'd • 
If there's another world, he lives in bliss ; 
If there is none, he made the best of this. 



129 



VERSES WRITTEN AT SELKIRK, 

ADDBESSED TO MR. CREECH, 13tH MAY, 1787. 



AtJLD chuckie Reekie's sair distrest, 
Down droops her ance weel burnish't 

crest, 
Nae joy her bonnie buskit nest 

Can yield ava, 
Iler darling bird that she lo'es best, 

Willie's awa ! 

Oh, Willie was a witty wight, 
And had o' things an unco slight ; 
Auld Reekie ay he keepit tight. 

An' trig an' braw : 
3ut now they'll busk her like a fright, 

Willie's awa ! 

The stiff est o' them a' he bow'd ; 
The bauldest o' them a' he cow'd ; 
They durst nae mair than he allow'd. 

That was a law : 
We've lost a birkie weel worth gowd, 

Willie's awa ! 

Now gawkies, tawpies, gowks, and 

fools, 
Frae colleges and boarding-schools, 
May sprout like simmer puddock- 
stools 

In glen or shaw ; 
H§ wha cciild brush them down to 
mools, 

Willie's awa \ 



The brethren o' the Commerce-Chau- 

mer 
May mourn their loss wi' doof u' clam' 

our ; 
He was a dictionar and grammar 

Amang them a' ; 
I fear they'll now mak mony a stam- 
mer, 

Willie's awa I 

Nae mair we see his levee door 
Philosophers and Poets pour, 
And toothy critics by the score. 

In bloody raw. 
The adjutant o' a' the core, 

Willie's awa ! 

Now worthy Gregory's Latin face, 
Tytler's and Greentield's modest grace; 
Mackenzie, Stewart, sic a brace 

As Rome ne'er saw ; 
They a' maun meet some ither place, 

Willie's awa ! 

Poor Burns e'en Scotch drink canna 

quicken. 
He cheeps hke some bewilder'd chicken 
Scar'd frae its minnie and the cleckia 

By hoodie-craw ; 
(xrief's ^ien his heart an unco' kickin*, 

WiUie's awg,. 



130 A YEBSE. 

Now ev'ry sour-mou'd grinnin' blel- May I be Slander's common speech i 

lum, A text for infamy to preach ; 

And Calvin's folk, are fit to fell him ; And lastly, streekit out to bleach 
And self-conceited critic skellum la winter snaw ; 

His quill may draw ; When I forget thee, Willie Creech, 
He wha could brawlie ward their Tho' far awa ! 

bellum, ]y[ay never wicked Fortune touzlc 
Willie s awa ! -' ^aia \ 

Up wimpling stately Tweed I've sped, May never wicked men bamboozle 

And Eden scenes on crystal Jed, " him ! 

And Ettrick banks now roaring red, Until a pow as auld's Mcthusalem 

While tempest blaw ; He canty claw ! 

But every joy and pleasure's fled. Then to the blessed. New Jerusalem 

Willie's awa I Fleet wing awa 1 



INSCRIPTION ON THE TOMBSTONE 

ERECTED BY BURNS TO THE MEMORY OP FERGUSSON. 

" Here lies Robert Fergusson, Poet, 
Born September 5th, 1751— 
Died 16th October, 1774," 

Kg sculptur'd marble here, nor pompous lay, 
" No storied urn nor animated bust" ; 

This simple stone directs pale Scotia's way 
To pour her sorrows o'er her Poet's dust. 

She mourns, sweet tuneful youth, thy hapless fate, 
Tho' all the powers of song thy fancy fir'd, 

Yet Luxury and Wealth lay by in State, 
And thankless starv'd what they so much admir'd. 

This humble tribute with a tear he gives, 
xV brother Bard, he can no more bestow : 

But dear to fame thy Song immortal lives, 
A nobler monument than Art can show. 



A GRACE BEFORE DINNER. 

O THOU, who kindly dost provide And, if it please thee. Heavenly Guide, 

For every creature's want I May never worse be sent ; 

We bless thee, God of Nature wide. But whether granted, or denied, 

For all thy goodness lent • Lord, bless us with content ! 



Amen I 



A YERSE 



COMPOSED AND REPEATED BT BTTRNS, TO THE MASTER OP THE HOUSE, OK TAKINO 1,EAV? 
AT A PLAOE IN THE HIGHLANDS, WHERE HE HAD BEEN HOSPITABLY ENTERTAINED. 

When death's dark stream I ferry o'er 

A time that surely shall come ; 
In Heaven itself I'll ask no more, 

Tiian just a Highland welcome 



FRAGMENT OF AN ODB, 131 



LIBERTY. J 

A FRA GMENT. 

Thee, Caledonia, thy wild heaths among. 

Thee, famed for martial deed and sacred song, | 

To thee I turn with swimming eyes ; 
Where is that soul of Freedom fled ? 
Immingled with the mighty dead ! " j 

Beneath the hallow'd turf where Wallace lies. j 

Hear it not, Wallace, in thy bed of death I : 

Ye babbling winds, in silence sweep ; 

Disturb not" ye the hero's sleep, j 

Nor give the coward secret breath. i 

Is this the power in Freedom's war, < 

That wont to bid the battle rage ? | 

Behold that eye which shot immortal liate, I 

Crushing the despot's proudes*. bearing, : 

That arm which, nerved with Plundering fate, ! 

Brav'd usurpation's bolder:, '^ daring ! 
One quench'd in darkness .ike the sinking &tar. 
And one the palsied .rm of tottering, powerless age. 



fpagment of an ode 

TO THE MEMORY OF PRINCF CHARLES EDWARD STUART. 

F.aLSE flatterer, Hrpe away ! 
Nj^ think to lure ui as in days of yore ; .; 

We solemnize thi? sorrowing natal-day | 

fo prove our loyal truth ; we can no morfi ; 1 

And owning Heaven's mysterious sway, j 

Submissive low adore. 

Ye honour'd mighty dead ! i 

Who nobly perish'd in the gloriouf^ cause, j 

Yonr king, your country, and )\'dv laws ! ^ j 

Yyow great Dundee vvdio sn-Llng victory led, ; 

And fell a martyr in her a^^ns j 

(What breast of'^nortl.ern ice but warms ?) 

To bold Balmerino's undying name. 
Whose soul of fipo. lighted at heaven's high flame, 
Deserves the proudest wreath departed heroes claim. 

Nor unavenged your fate shall be, ; 

It only lags the fatal hour ; j 

Your blood shall with incessant cry ■ 

Awake at last th' unsparing power ; i 

As from the cliff, with thundering course, | 

The snowy ruin smokes along, ■ 
With doubling speed and gathering force, 

Till deep it crashing whelms the cottage in the vale ! ' 
Sove<ageftnce . , , « . 



132 



VERSES ADDRESSED TO THE POET. 



ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF ROBERT RUISSEAUX. 



Now Kobia lies in his last lair, 
He'll gabble rhyme, nor sing nae mair, 
Cauld poverty, wi' hungry stare, 

Nae mair shall fear him : 
Nor anxious fear, nor cankert care. 

E'er mair come near him. 

To tell the truth, they seldom fash't 

him, 
Except the moment that they crush't 

him ; 
For sune as chance or fate had hush't 

'em, 



Tho' e'er sae short. 
Then wi' a rhyme or sang he lasht 'em, 
And thouglit it sport. 

Tho' he was bred to kintra wark. 
And counted was baith wight and 

stark, 
Yet that was never Robin's mark 

To mak a man ; 
But tell him, he was learn'd and 
Clark, 

Yc roos'd him than 1 



ANSWER TO VERSES ADDRESSED TO THE POET 



BY TUB GUIDWIFB OF WAUCUOPE HOUSE. 



£1787.1 



GUIDWIFE, 

I MIND it weel, in early date, 
When I was beardless, young, and 
blate. 
An' first could thresh the barn, 
Or baud a yokin at the pleugh, 
An' tho' forfoughten sair eueugh, 

Yet unco proud to learn : 
"When first amang the yellow corn 

A man I reckon 'd was, 
And wi' the lave ilk merry morn 
Could rank m}' rig and lass, 
Still shearing, ;uid clearing 

The tither stooked raw, 

Wi' claivers, an' haivers. 

Wearing the day awa : 

Ev'n then a wish, (I mind its power,) 
A wish that to my latest hour 

Shall strongly heave my breast ; 
That I for poor auld Scotland's sake. 
Some usefu' plan, or beuk could make. 

Or sing a sang at least. 
The rough bur-thistle, spreading wide 

Amang the bearded bear, 
I turn'd the weeder-clips aside. 
An' spar'd the symbol dear : 
No nation, no station, 

My envy e'er could raise ; 
A Scot still, but blot still, 
^ I knew nae higher praise, 



But still the elements o' sang 

In formless jumble, right an' wrang, 

Wild floated in my brain ; 
Till on that har'st I said before. 
My partner in the merry core, 

She rous'd the forming strain ; 
I see her yet, the sousie quean. 

That lighted up my jingle. 
Her witching smile, her pauky een, 
That gart my heart-strings tingle ; 
I fired, inspired. 

At ev'ry kindling keek. 
But bashing, and dashing, 
I feared aye to speak. 

Health to the sex, ilk guid chiel says, 
Wi' merry dance in winter days, 

An' we to share in common : 
The gust o' joy, the balm of woe. 
The saul o' life, the heav'n below, 

Is rapture-giving woman. 
Ye surly sumphs. who hate the name. 

Be miudfu' o' your mither : 
She, honest woman, may think shame 
That ye're connected with her. 
Ye're wae men, ye're nae men, 
That slight the lovely dears ; 
To shame ye, disclaim ye. 
Ilk honest birkie swears. 



THE TWA HERBS. 



138 



For you, no bred to barn or byre, 
Wha sweetly tune the Scottish lyre, 

Thanks to yon for your line : 
The marled plaid ye kindly spare, 
By nie should gratefully be ware ; 

'Twad please me to the nine, 
['d be more vauntie o' my hap, 

Douce hingin' owre my curple. 



Than ony ermine ever lap, 
Or proud imperial purple. 
Farewell then, lang heal then. 

An' plenty be your fa' : 
May losses and crosses 
Ne'er at your hallan ca'. 
yrarch, 1787. 



TO J. LAPRAIK. 

SEPT. 13th, 1785. 



'JrUiD speed an' f urder to you, Johny, 
«ruid health, hale ban's, and weather 

bonie 
Now when ye're nickan down f u' cany 

The staff o' bread. 
Hay ye neer want a stoup o' bran'y 
To clear your head. 

May Boreaii never thresh your rigs. 
Nor kick y uir rickles aff tlieir legs, 
Sendiu' th^. ^tuff o'er muirs and hags 

Like drivin' wrack ; 
But may tbe tapmast grain that wags 

Come to the sack. 

I'm bizzie too, an' skelpin' at it, 

But bitter, daudin showers hae wat itp 

Sae my auld stumpie pen I gat it 

Wi' muckle wark. 
An' took my jocteleg an' whatt it. 

Like ouie clerk. 

It's now twa month that I'm your 

debtor. 
For your braw, nameless, dateless let- 
ter, 
Abusin' me for harsh ill-nature 

On holy men. 
While Deil a hair yoursel' ye're better. 
But mair profane. 

But let the ki»-k-folk ring their bells. 
Let's sing about our noble sels ; 



We'll cry nae jads frae heathen hills 
To help, or roose us. 

But browster wives an' whisky stills. 
They are the Muses. 

Your friendship, Sir, I winna quat it. 
An' if ye make objections at it. 
Then han' in nieve some day we'll 
knot it. 

An' witness take. 
An' when wi Usquebae we've wat it 

It winna break. 

But if the beast and branks be spar'd 
Till kye be gaun without the herd. 
An' a' the vittel in the yard. 

An' theek'it right, 
I mean your ingle-side to guard 

Ae winter night. 

Then muse-inspirin' aqua-vitae 

Shall make us baith sae blithe an' witty 

Till ye forget ye're auld an' gatty. 

An' be as canty 
As ye were nine years less than thretty, 

Sweet ane an' twenty 1 

But stooks are cowpet wi' the blast. 
An' now the sinn keeks in the west, 
Then I maun rin amang the rest 

An' quit my chanter j 
Sae I subscribe mysel in haste. 

Yours, Rab the Ranter 



THE TWA HERDS. [April, 1785.] 

Blockheads with reason wicked wits abhor, 

But Fool with Fool is barbarous civil war.— Pope. 



O A ye pious godly flocks, 
Weel feed on pastures orthodox, 
Wha now will keep you frae the fox, 

Or worrying tykes ? 
Or wha will tent the waifs and crocks, 

About the dykes ? 



The twa best herds in a' the wast. 
That e'er gae gospel horn a blast. 
These five and twenty summers paati 

O dool to tell ! 
Plae had a bitter black out-cast, 

Atween themsel. 



134 



THE TWA B^nDS. 



O, Moodie, man, and wordy Russel, 
How could you raise so vile a bustle, 
Ye'll see how new-light herds will 
whistle, 

And think it fine ! 
The Lord's cause ne'er gat sic a twistle 

Sin' I hae min'. 

O, Sirs, whae'er wad hae expeckit. 
Your duty ye wad sae uegleckit, 
Ye wha were ne'er by lairds respeckit, 

To wear the plaid, 
But by the brutes themselves eleckit 

To be their guide. 

What flock wi' Moodie's flock could 

rank, 
Sae hale and hearty every shank, 
Nae poison'd soor Arminians tank 

He let them taste, 
Frae Calvin's well, aye clear, they 

^^^°^= O' sic a feast! 

The thummart wil'-cat, brock and tod, 
Weel kend his voice thro' a' the wood, 
He smell'd their ilka hole and road, 

Baith out and in, 
And weel he lik'd to shed their bluid. 

And sell their skin. 

What herd like Russel tell'd his tale, 
llis voice was heard thro' muir and 

dale. 
He kend the Lord's sheep, ilka tail. 

O'er a' the height. 
And saw gin they were sick or hale, 

At the first sight. 

He fine a mangy sheep could scrub. 

Or nobly fling the gos])el club, 

And new-light herds could nicely 

^^^'^^' Or pay their skin. 
Could shake them owre the burning 

^^^^' Or heave them in. 

Sic twa— O ! do I live to see't, 
Sic famous twa should disagreet, 
An' names, like "villain," "hypo- 
crite," iikithergi-en. 
While new-light herds wi' laughin' 
^P^*^' Say, " neither's liein ! " 

A' ye wha' tent the gospel fauld, 
I'here's Duncan deep, and Peebles 
shaul. 



But chiefly thou, apostle Auld, 
AVe trust in thee, 
That thou wilt work them, hot and 
cauid, ^.jj ^^^^^ .jg^pg^ 

Consider, Sirs, how we're beset, 
There's scarce a new herd that we get, 
But comes frae 'mang that cursed set 

I wiuua name, 
I hope frae heaven to see them yet 

In fiery flame. 

Dalrymple has been lang our fae, 
M'Gill has wrought us meikle wae, 
And that curs'd rascal ca"d ^PQuhae, 

And bailh the Shaws, 
That aft hae made us black and blae, 

Wi' vengef u' paws. 

Auld Wodrow lang has hatch'd miS' 

chief, 
We thought ave death wad bring re- 
lief. 
But he has gotten, to our grief, 

Ane to succeed him, 
A chiel wha'll soundly buff our beef i 
I meikle dread him. 

And monie a ane that I could tell, 
Wha fain would openly rebel, 
Forby turn-coats amang oursel, 

There's Smith foi ane, 
I doubt he's but a gray nick quill. 

And that ye'll tin'. 

O ! a' ye flocks, owre a' the hills, 
By mosses, meadows, moors, and fells. 
Come join your counsels and your 

skills, ^^ ^^^g ^j^g \ii\vdi^. 
And get the brutes the power themsels 
To choose their herds. 

Then Orthodoxy yet may prance, 
And Learning in a wordy dance. 
And that fell cur ca'd Common Sense, 

That bites sae sair. 
Be banish'd owre the seas to France ; 

Let him bark there. 

Then Shaw's and D'rymple's elo- 
quence, 
M'Gill's close nervous excellence, 
M'Quhae's pathetic manly sense. 

And guid M'Maith, 
Wi' Smith, wha thro' the heart can 
glance. May a' pack aff . 



TO THE BEV. JOHN IP MATH. 



130 



TO THE REV. JOHN M'MATH, 



BlffCLOSING A COPY OF HOLY WILLIE'S 

While at the stook tlie shearers cowr 
To shun the bitter blaimdin' show'r, 
Or in gulravage rinuiu scour 

To pass the time, 
To you I dedicate the hour 

In idle rhyme. 

My Musie, tir'd wi' monie a sonnet 
On gown, an' ban, an' douse black 

bonnet, 
Is grown right eerie now's she's done it, 

. Lest they shou'd blame her, 
A.n' rouse their holy thunder on it. 
And anathem her. 

I own 'twas rash, and rather hardy, 
That I, a simple countra bardie, 
Shou'd meddle wi' a pack so sturdy, 

Wha, if they ken me. 
Can easy, wi' a single wordie, 

Lowse hell upon me. 

But I gae mad at their grimaces. 
Their sighin', cantin', grace-proud 

faces. 
Their three-mile prayers, and hauf 
mile graces. 

Their raxin' conscience, 
Whase greed, revenge, an' pride dis- 
graces 
Waur nor their nonsense. 

There's Gaun, misca't waur than a 

beast, 
Wha has mair honour in his breast 
Than monie scores as guid's the priest 

Wha sae abus'd him ; 
An' may a bard no crack his jest 

What way they've us'd him ? 

See him, the poor man's friend in need. 
The gentleman in w^ord an' deed, 
An' shall his fame an' honour bleed 

By worthless skellums, 
An' no a Muse erect her head 

To cowe the blellums ? 

O Pope, had I thy satire's darts 
To give the rascals their deserts, 
I'd rip their rotton. hollow hearts, 

And tell aloud 
Their juggling' hocus-pocus arts 

To cheat the crowd. 



PRAYER, WHICH HE HAD REQUi;gTED. 

Sept. nth, IT85. 
God knows, I'm no the thing I shou'd 

be, 
Nor am I even the thing I could be, 
But, twenty times, I rather would be 

An atheist clean. 

Than under gospel colours hid be, 

Just for a screen. 

An honest man may like a glass. 
An honest man may like a lass, 
But mean revenge, an' malice fause, 

He'H still disdain. 
An' then cry zeal for gospel laws, 

Like some we ken. 

They tak religion in their mouth ; 
They talk o' mercy, grace, an' truth. 
For what ? to gie their malice skoutli 

On some puir wight, 
An' hunt him down, Q'er right an* 
ruth. 

To ruin straight. 

All hail,. Eeligion ! maid divine ! 
Pardon a muse sae mean as mine. 
Who in her rough imperfect line 

Thus daurs to name thee •, 
To stigmatize false friends of thine 

Can ne'er defame thee. 

Tho' blotcht an' foul wi' monie a stain. 

An far unworthy of thy train, 

Wi' trembling voice I tune my strain 

To join W'i' those. 
Who boldly daur thy cause maintain 

In spite o' foes : 

In spite o' crowds, in spite o' mobs. 
In spite of undermining jobs. 
In spite o' dark banditti stabs 

At w^orth an' merit. 
By scoundrels, even wi' holy robes, 

But hellish spirit. 

O Ayr ! my dear, my native ground I 
Within thy presbyterial bound, 
A caudid lib'ral band is found 

Of public teachers, 
As men, as Christians too, renown'd. 

An' manly preachers. 



136 



HOLY WTLLIE'8 PBATEn. 



Sir, in that circle you are nam'd, 
Sir, in that circle you are fam'd : 
An' some, by whom your doctrine's 
blam'd ; 
(Which gies you honour,) 
Even, Sir, by them your heart's 
esteem 'd, 

An' winninjy manner. 



Pardon this freedom I have ta'en, 
An' if impertinent I've been, 
Impute it not, good Sir, in ane 

Whase heart ne'er wrang'di 

ye, 

But to his utmost would befriend 
Ought that belang'd ye. 



HOLY WILLIE'S PRAYER. 



Tnou, wha .^ the Heavens dost 

dwell, 
Wha, as it pleases best thysel', 
Sends ane to heaven and ten to hell, 

A' for thy glory, 
And no for onie guid or ill 

They've done afore thee ! 

1 bless and praise thy matchless might, 
When thousands thou hast left in 

night, 
That I am here afore thy sight. 

For gifts an' grace, 
A burnin an' a sliinin light, 

To a' this place. 

What was I, or my generation, 
That I should get sic exaltation ? 
I, wha deserve sic just damnation. 

For broken laws. 
Five thousand years 'fore my creation, 

Thro' Adam's cause. 

When frae my mither's womb I fell. 
Thou might hae plunged me in hell, 
To gnash my gums, to weep and wail, 

In burnin' lake. 
Where damned devils roar and yell, 

Chain'd to a stake. 

Yet I am here a chosen sample, 

To show thy grace is great and ample; 

I'm here a pillar in thy temple. 

Strong as a rock, 
A guide, a buckler, an example 

To a' thy tlock. 

O Lord, thou kens what zeal I bear. 
When drinkers drink, and swearers 

swear. 
And singin there and dancin here, 

Wi' great an' sma' : 
For I am keepit by thy fear, 

Free frae them a'. 



But yet, O Lord ! confess I must. 
At times I'm fash'd wi' fleshy lust. 
An' sometimes too, wi' warldly trust, 

Vile self gets in ; 
But thou remembers we are dust, 

Defil'd in sin. 

O Lord ! yestreen, thou kens, wf 

Meg — 
Thy pardon I sincerely beg, 
O ! may it ne'er be a livin plaguty 

To my dishonour. 
An' I'll ne'er lift a lawless leg 
Again upon her. 

Besides I farther maun allow, 

Wi' Lizzie's lass, three times I trow^ 

But Lord, that Friday I was fou, 

When I came near her. 
Or else thou kens thy servant true 

Wad ne'er hae steer'd her. 

May be thou lets this fleshly thorn 
Beset thy servant e'en and morn. 
Lest he owre high and proud should 
turn, 

'Cause he's sae gifted ; 
If sae, thy hand maun e'en be borne. 

Until thou lift it. 

Lord, bless thy chosen in this place. 
For here thou hast a chosen race ; 
But God confound their stubborn face. 

And blast their name, 
Wha bring thy elders to disgrace, 

An' public shame. 

Lord, mind Gawn Hamilton's deserts, 
He drinks, an' swears, an' plays at 

cartes, 
Yet has sae monie takin arts, 

Wi' grit an' sma', 
Frae God's ain priest the people'^ 
hearts 

He steals aiva'. 



ON SCARING SOME WATER FOWL. 



137 



An' whan we cliasten'd him therefor, 
Thou kens how he bred sic a splore, 
As set the warld in a roar 

O' laughin at us ; 
Curse thou his basket and his store, 

Kail and potatoes. 

Lord, hear my earnest cr}^ an' pray'r, 
Against that presbyt'ry o' Ayr ; 
Tliy strong right hand, Lord, make it 
bare, 

Upo' their heads ; 
Lord, weigh it down, and dinna spare. 

For tlieir misdeeds. 

O Lord my God, that Glib-tongued 

Aiken, 
My very heart and soul are quakin, 



To think how w^e stood sweatin, 
shakin, 

An' p — d wi' dread, 
While he, wi' hingin lips an' snakin'. 
Held up his head. 

Lord, in the day of vengeance try him ; 
Lord, visit them wha did employ him. 
And pass not in thy mercy by 'em. 

Nor hear their pray'r ; 
But, for thy people's sake, destroy 'em, 

And dinna spare. 

But, Lord, remember me and mine 
Wi' mercies temp'ral and divine. 
That I for gear and grace may shine, 

Excell'd by nane. 
An' a' the glory shall be thine, 

Amen, Amen. 



EPITAPH 0:N" holy WILLIE. 



Here Holy Willie's sair worn clay 

Taks up its last abode ; 
His saul has taen some other way, 

I fear the left-hand road. 

Stop ! there he is, as sure's a gun, 
Poor silly body, see him ; 

Nae wonder he's as black's the grun. 
Observe wha's standing wi' him. 

Your brunstane devilship, I see, 
Has got him there before ye ; 



But haud your nine-tail cat a-wee. 
Till ance you've heard my story. 

Your pity I will not implore. 

For pity ye have nane ; 
Justice, alas^ ! has gien him o'er. 

And mercy's day is gane. 

But hear me, Sir, deil as ye are. 
Look something to your credit ', 

A coof like him wad stain your name, 
If it were kent ye did it. 



ON SCARING SOME WATER FOWL 

IN LOCH TURIT, A WILD SCENE AMONG THE HILLS OF OCHTERTTKE. 



Why, ye tenants of the lake. 
For me your wat'ry haunt forsake ? 
I Tell me, fellow-ereatures, why 
V\t my presence thus you fly ? 
Why disturb your social joys, 
Parent, filial, kindred ties ? — 
Common friend to you and me. 
Nature's gifts to all are free : 
Peaceful keep your dimpling wave, 
Busy feed, or wanton lave ; 
Or, beneath the sheltering rock. 
Bide the surging billow's shock. 

Conscious, blushing for our race. 
Soon, too soon, your fears I trace. 
Man, your proud, usurping foe. 
Would be lord of all below ; 



Plumes himself in Freedom's pride. 
Tyrant stern to all beside. 

The eagle, from the cliffy brow. 
Marking you his prey below. 
In his breast no pity dwells. 
Strong Necessity compels. 
But Man, to whom alone is giv'n 
A ray direct from pitying Heav'n, 
Gloricb in his heart humane — 
And creatures for his pleasure slaia 

In these savage, liquid plains. 
Only known to wand'ring swains, 
Where the mossy riv'let strays. 
Far froiii human haunts and* ways ; 
All on Nature you depend, 
And life's poor season peaceful spend. 



138 



TO MB, M'ADAM. 



Or, if man's superior might 
Dare invade your native riglit, 
On tlie lofty etlier borne, 
Man with all his pow'rs you scorn ; 



Swiftly seek, on clanging wings, 
Other lakes and other springs ; 
And the foe you cannot brave. 
Scorn at least to be his slave. 



TO GAVIN HAMILTON, ESQ., MAUCHLINE, 

KECOMMENDING A BOY. MosgavUle, Mmj 3, 1786. 



I HOLD it. Sir, my bounden duty, 
To warn you how that Master Tootie, 

Alias Laird M'Gaun, 
Was here to lure the lad away 
'Bout whom ye spak the tither day. 

An' wad hae don't aff han' : 
But lest he learn the callan tricks, 

As faith I muckle doubt him, 
Like scrapin' out auld Crummie's 
nicks. 

An' tellin' lies about them ; 
As lieve then I'd have then, 

Your clerkship he should sair, 
If sae be, ye may be 
Not fitted otherwhere. 

Altho' I say't, he's gleg enough, 
An' 'bout a house that's rude an' 
rough. 

The boy might learn to swear ; 
But then wi' you, he'll be sae taught, 
An' get sic fair example straught, 

I hae na onie fear. 
Ye'U catechize him every quirk. 



An' shore him weel wi' hell ; 

An' gar him follow to the kirk 

— Ay when ye gang yoursel. 
If ye then, maun be then 

Frae hame this comin' Friday, 
Then please, Sir, to lea'e, Sir, 

The orders Mi' your lady. 

My word of honour I ha'e gi'en, 
In Paisley John's, that night at e'en. 
To meet the Warld's worm j 
To try to get the twa to gree, 
An' name the airles an' the fee, 

In legal mode an' form : 
I ken he weel a snick can draw. 

When simple bodies let him ; 
An' if a Devil be at a', 

In faith he's sure to get him. 
To phrase you an' praise jon, 

Ye ken your Laureat scorns : 
The pray'r still, you share still. 
Of grateful Minstrel. 

Burns. 



EPISTLE TO MR. M^ADAM, 



or CRAIGEN-GILLAN, IN ANSWER TO AN OBLIGING LETTER HE SENT IN THE COMMENCEMENT 

OF MT rOETIC CAREER. 



Sir, o'er a gill I gat your card, 

I trow it made me proud ; 
*■' See wlia taks notice o' the Bard ! " 

I lap and cry'd fu' loud. 

" Now deil-ma-care about their jaw. 
The senseless, gawky million ; 

I'll cock my nose aboon them a', 
I'm roos'd by Craigen-Gillan ! " 

'Twas noble, Sir ; 'twas like yoursel, 
To grant your high protection . 

A great man's smile, ye ken fu' weel, 
Is aye a blest infection. 

Tho', by his banes wha in a tub 
Match'd Macedonia^ Sandy I 



On my ain legs, thro' dirt and dub, 
I independent stand ay. — 

And when those legs to gude, warm 
kail, 

Wi' welcome canna bear me ; 
A lee dyke-side, a sybow-tail. 

And barley-scone shall cheer me. 

Heaven spare 3^bu lang to kiss the 
breath 

O' monie flow'ry simmers ! 
And bless your bonie lasses baith, 

I'm tald they're loosome kimmers ! 

And God bless young Dunaskin's laird, 
The blossom of our gentry ! 

And may he wear an auld man's beard, 
A credit to his country. 



to tbebaVohtt. 



139 



TO CAPTAm RIDDEL, GLENRIDDEL. 

EXTEMPOI'vE LINES ON RETUKNING A NEY/SPAPER. 

J^ilidand, Monday Evening. 
Your News and Keview, Sir, I've read through aud through, Sir, 

With little admiring or blaming ; 
The papers are barren of home-news or foreign, 

No murders or rapes worth the naming. 

Our friends the lleviewers, those chippers and hewers. 

Are judges of mortar aud stone, Sir ; 
But of meet, or unmeet, in a fabrick complete, 

I'll boldly pronounce they are uone, Sir. 

My goose-quill too rude is to tell all your goodness 

Bestow'd on your servant, the Poet ; 
Would to God I had one like a beam of the sun. 

And then all the world, Sir, should know it ! 



VERSES 



INTENDED TO BE WRITTEN BELOW A NOBLE EARL S PICTURE, 



Whose is that noble, dauntless brow ? 

And whose that eye of fire ? 
And whose that generous princely 
mien 

Even rooted foes admire ? 

Stranger, to justly shew that brow. 

And mark that eye of fire, 
Would take His hand, whose vernal 
tints 

His other works admire. 



Bright as a cloudless summer sun. 
With stately port he moves ; 

His guardian seraph eyes with awe 
The noble ward he loves. 



Among the illustrious Scottish sons 
That chief thou may'st discern ; 

Mark Scotia's fond returning ej^e. 
It dwells upon Glencairn. 



TO TERRAUGHTY, 

Health to the Maxwells' vet'ran 

Chief ! 
Health, aye unsour'd by care or grief ; 
Inspir'd, I turn'd Fate's sibyl leaf 

This natal morn, 
I see thy life is stuff o' prief , 

Scarce quite half worn. 

This day thou metes threescore eleven. 
And I can tell that bounteous Heaven 
(The second-sight, ye ken, is given 

To ilka Poet) 
On thee a tack o' seven times seven 

Will yet bestow it. 

If envious buckles view wi' sorrow 
Thy lengthen'd days on this blest 

morrow, 
May desolation's lang-teeth'd harrow, 
Nine miles an hour. 



ON HIS BIRTHDAY. 

Rake them, like Sodom and Go- 
morrah, 

In brunstane stoure — 

But for thy friends, and they are 

monie, 
Baith honest men and lassies bonie. 
May couthie fortune, kind and cannie, 

In social gk^e, 
Wi' mornings biithe and e'enings 
funny 

Bless them and thee ! 

Fareweel, auld birkie! Lord be near ye. 
And then the Deil he daurna steer ye : 
Your friends aye love, your faes aye 
f,c'ar ye ; 

For me, shame fa' me. 
If neist my heart I dinna wear ye 

While Burns thej ca' me. 



14C TEE VOWELS. 

TO A LADY, 

WITH A PRESENT OP A PAIR OP DRINKING GLASSES. 

Pair Empress of tlie Poet's sou\, And pledge me in the generous toast-* 

And Queen of Poetesses ; " The whole of human kind ! " 

Clarinda, take this little boon, 

This humble pair of glasses. t,m ,^ , , ,„ , ^„ 

® "To those who love us ! — second ^\\ 

And fill them liigh with generous But not to those whom we love ; 

jwice, Lest we love those who love not us I 

As generous as your mind ; A third— " to thee and me, Love I** 



THE VOWELS. 

► A TALE. 

fwAS where the birch and sounding thong are ply'd. 
The noisy domicile of pedant pride ; 
Where ignorance her darkening vapour throws, 
\.nd cruelty directs the thickening blows ; 
iJpon a time Sir Abece the great, 
In all his pedagogic powers elate. 
His awful chair of state resolves to mount. 
And call the trembling Vowels to account. 

First enter'd A, a grave, broad, solemn wight. 
But ah ! deform 'd, dishonest to the sight ! 
His twisted head look'd backward on his way, 
And flagrant from tlie scourge, ho grunted, ai! 

Reluctant, E stalk'd in ; with piteous race. 
The jostling tears ran down his honest face ! 
That name, that well-worn name, and all his own, 
Pale he surrenders at the tyrant's throne ! 
The pedant stitles keen the Koman sound 
Not all his mongrel diphthongs can compound ; 
And next, the title following close behind. 
He to the nameless, ghastly wretch assigned. 

The cobweb'd gothic dome resounded, Y I 
In sullen vengeance, I, disdain'd reply : 
The pedant swung liis felon cudgel round. 
And knock'd the groaning vowel to the ground ! 

In rueful apprehension enter'd O, 
The wailing minstrel of despairing woe ; 
Th' Inquisitor of Spain the most expert. 
Might there have learnt new mysteries of his art* 
So grim, deform'd, with horrors entering U, 
His dearest friend and brother scarcely knew 1 

As trembling U stood staring all aghast. 
The pedant in his Ijit hand clutch'd him fast, 
In helpless infants' tears he dipp'd his right, 
Baptizd him eu, and kick'd him from his sight. 



PROLOGUE, 141 



SKETCH. 



A LITTLE, upriglit, pert, tart, tripping wight. 
And still his precious self his dear delight ; 
Yv^ho loves his own smart shadow in the streets 
Better than e'er the fairest she he meets : 
A man of fashion too, he made liis tour, 
Learn'd vive la bagatelle, et vive I'amour ; 
So travell'd monkeys their grimace improve, 
Polish their grin, nay, sigh for ladies' love. 
Much precious lore, but little understood ; 
Veneering oft outshines the solid wood : 
His solid sense — by inches you must tell, 
But mete his cunning by the old Scots ell ; 
His meddhng vanity, a busy fiend, 
Still making work his selfish craft must mend. 



PROLOGUE. 

FOB MR. Sutherland's benefit-night, Dumfries. [1790.) 

"What needs this din about the town o' Lon'on, 
How this new play an' that new sang is comin' ? 
Why is outlandish stuff sae meikle courted ? 
Does nonsense mend like whisky, when imported ? J 
Is there nae poet, burning keen for fame. 
Will try to gie us sangs and plays at hame ? 
For comedy abroad he need na toil, 
A fool and knave are plants of every soil ; 
Kor need he hunt as far as Rome and Greece 
To gather matter for a serious piece ; 
There's themes enow in Caledonian story, 
Would show the tragic muse in a' her glory. 
Is there no daring Bard will rise, and tell 
How glorious Wallace stood, how^ hapless fell ? 
Where are the Muses fled that could produce 
A drama worthy o' the name o' Bruce ; 
How here, even here, he first unsheath'd the sword 
'Gainst mighty England and her guilty lord ; : 

And after monie a bloody, deathless doing, i 

Wrench'd his dear country from the jaws of ruin ? i i 

O for a Shakespeare, or an Otway scene, . 
To draw the lovely, hapless Scottish Queen ! 

Vain all th' omnipotence of female charms i 

'Gainst headlong, ruthless, mad Rebellion's arms. 
She fell, but fell with spirit truly Roman, 
To glut the vengeance of a rival woman ; 

A woman, tho' the phrase may seem uncivil, \ 

As able and as cruel as the devil ! 
One Douglas lives in Home's immortal page. 
But Douglases were heroes every a^e : 



142 ELEQT ON THE TEAR 1788. 

And tho' your fathers, prodigal of life, 
A Douglas follow'd to the martial strife, 
Perhaps, if bowls row right, and Right succeeds. 
Ye yet may follow where a Douglas leads I 

As ye hae geuerous done, if a' the laud 
Would tak the Muses' servants by the hand ; 
Not only hear, but patronize, befriend them. 
And where ye. justly can commend, commend them; 
And aiblins when they winna stand the test. 
Wink hard and say, the folks hae done their best 1 
AVould a' tlie land do this, then I'll be caution 
Ye'll soon hae poets o' the Scottish nation. 
Will gar Fame blaw until her trumpet crack, 
And warsle Time an' lay him on his back ! 

For us and for our stage should onie spier, 
** Whase aught thae chiels maks a' this bustle here?* 
My best leg foremost, I'll set up my brow, 
We hae the honour to belong to you 1 
We're j^our ain bairns, e'en guide us as ye like. 
But like good mithcrs, shore before ye strike — 
And gratefu' still I hope j'c'll ever find us. 
For a' the patronage and meikle kindness 
We've got frae a' professions, sets and ranks : 
Grod help us I we're but poor— Ye'se get but thanks. 



ELEGY ON THE YEAR 1788. 

SKETCH. 

For Lords or .Kings I dinna mourn. E'en monie a plack, and monie a peels 

E'en let them die— ^for that they're born: Ye ken yoursels, for little feck. 
But oh ! prodigious to reHec' ! Ye bonie lassies, dight your een, 

A Towmont, Sirs, is gane to wreck 1 For some o' you hae tint a frien' ; 

O Eighty-eight, in thy sma' space In Eighty-eight, ye ken, was ta'en 

AVhat dire eVents hae* taken place ! What ye'll ne'er hae to gie again. 
Of what enjoyments thou hast reft us ! Observe the very nowt an' sheep, 

In what a pickle thou hast left us ! How dowf and daviely they creep ; 

The Spanish empire's tint a head, Nay, even the ylrth itsel does cry. 

And my anld teethless Bawtie's dead ! For Embrugh wells are grutten dry. 
The tuizie's sair 'tween Pitt an' Fox, O Eighty-nine, thou's but a bairn. 

An' our gudewife's wee birdy cocks ; An' no owre auld, I hope, to learn ! 

The tane is game, a bludie devil. Thou beardless boy, I pray tak care. 

But to the hen-binls unco civil ; Thou now has got thy daddie's chair, 

The tither's something dour o' treadin, Nae hand cutT'd, mizzl'd, hap-shackl'd 
But better stuff ne'er claw'd a midden. Regent, 

Ye ministers, come mount thepoupit. But, like himsel, a full free agent. 

An' cry till ye be haerse an' roupet. Be sure ye follow out the plan 

For Eighty-eight he wish'd you weel, Nae waur than he did, honest man : 

And gied you a' baith gear an' meal j As tmickle better as you can. 

Jan-mry 1« 17S8|^ 



3)ELIA, 143 

VERSES WRITTEN UNDER I'HE PORTRAIT OF 
FERGUSSON THE POET, 

IN A COPY OF THAT AUTHOR'S WORKS 
PEESENTED TO A YOUNG LADY IN EDINBURGH, MARCH I9tH, 1787. 

Curse on ungrateful man, that can be pleas'd, 
And yet can starve the author of the pleasure I 
O thou, my elder brother in misfortune. 
By far my elder brother in the Muses, 
With tears I pity thy unhappy fate ! 
Why is the Bard unpitied by the world, 
Yet has so keen a relish of its pleasures ? 

LAMENT {see Note), 

WRITTEN AT A TIME WHEN THE POET WAS ABOUT TO LEAVE SCOTLANO. 

O'er the mist-shrouded cliffs of the lone mountain straying. 

Where the wild winds of winter incessantly rave, 
What woes wring my heart while intently surveying 

The storm's gloomy path on the breast of the wave. 

Ye foam-crested billows, allow me to wail, 

Ere ye toss me afar from my lov'd native shore ; 
Where the flower which bloom'd sweetest in Coila's green vale, 

The pride of my bosom, my Mary's no more, 

Ko more by the banks of the streamlet we'll wander, 
And smile at the moon's rimpled face in the wave ; 

No more shall my arms cling with fondness around her, 
For the dew-drops of morning fall cold on her grave. 

No more shall the soft thrill of love warm my breast, 

I haste with the storm to a far distant shore ; 
Where unknown, unlamented, my ashes shall rest. 

And joy shall revisit my bosom no more. 



DELIA. 

AN ODE. 

Pair the face of orient day, The flower-enamoured busy bee 

Fair the tints of op'niug rose ; The rosy banquet loves to sip ; 
But the fairer still my Delia dawns. Sweet the streamlet's limpid lapse 

More lovely far her beauty blows. To the sun-brown'd Arab's lip ; 

Sweet the lark's wild-warbled lay. But, Delia, on thy balmy lips 

Sweet the tinkangrill to hear ; Let me, nO vagrant insect rove I 
But, Delia, more delightful still O let me steal one liquid kiss ! 

Steal tUine acc^p,ts on mine ear. For oh I my soul is parched wit|i lova 



144 81E JAMES HUNTER BLAIR. 



ON THE DEATH OF SIR JAMES HUNTER BLAIR. 

The lamp of day, with ill-presaging glare 

Dim, cloudy, sunk beneath the western wave ; 

Th' inconstant blast howl'd thro' the dark'ning air. 
And hollow whistl'd in the rocky cave. 

Lone as I wander'd by each cliff and dell, 
Once the lov'd haunts of Scotia's royal train ; 

Or mus'd where limpid streams, once hallow'd well. 
Or mould'ring ruins mark the sacred fane. 

Th' increasing blast roar'd round the beetling rocks, 
The clouds swift-wing'd flew o'er the starry sky. 

The groaning trees untimely shed their locks, 
And shooting meteors caught the startled eye. 

The paly moon rose in the livid east, 
And 'mong the cliffs disclos'd a stately Form, 

In weeds of woe that frantic beat her breast, 
And mix'd her wailings with the raving storm, 

"Wild to my heart the filial pulses glow, 
'Twas Caledonia's trophied shield I view'd \ 

Her form majestic droop'd in pensive woe. 
The lightning of her eye in tears imbued. 

Revers'd that spear, redoubtable in war, 
Reclin'd that banner, erst in fields unfurl'd, 

That like a deathf iil meteor gleam'd afar. 

And braved the mighty monarchs of the world.— 

" My patriot son fills an untimely grave ! " 
With accents wild and lifted arms she cried^; 

*' Low lies the hand that oft was stretch'd to save, 
Low lies the heart that swell'd with honest pride ! 

*' A weeping country joins a widow's tear, 
The helpless poor mix with the orphan's cry ; 

The drooping arts surround their patron's bier. 
And grateful science heaves the heartfelt sigh. — 

" I saw my sons resume their ancient fire ; 

I saw fair Freedom's blossoms richly blow ; 
But, ah ! how hope is born but to expire ! 

Relentless fate has laid their guardian low. — 

** My patriot falls, but shall he lie unsung, 
While empty greatness saves a worthless name ? 

No ; every Muse shall join her tuneful tongue, 
And future ages liear his growing fame. 

*' And I will join a mother's tender cares. 

Thro' future times to make his virtues last, 
That distant years may boast of other Blairs,"— » 
. She said, and vanish'd with the sweeping blast. . 



THE POET'S WELCOME, 



la 



TO MISS FERRIER, 

ENCLOSING THE ELEGT ON SIR J. H. BLAIR. 



Kae heathen name shall I prefix 
Frae Pindus or Parnassus ; 

Auld Reekie dings them a' to sticks. 
For rhyme-inspiring lasses, 

jove's tunefu' dochters three times 
three 

Made Homer deep their debtor ; 
But, gi'en the body hauf an ee, 

Nine Ferriers wad done better ! 

Last day my mind was in a bog, 
Down George's street I stoited ; 



A creeping, cauld, prosaic fog 
My very senses doited. 

Do what I dought to set her free, 

My saul lay in the mire ; 
Ye turned a neuk — I saw your ee— 

She took the wing like lire ! 

The mournf u' sang I here enclose. 

In gratitude I send you ; 
And wish and praj^ in rhyme sincere, 

A' gude things may attend you. 



WRITTEN ON THE BLANK LEAF 

OP A COPT OP THE FIRST EDITION [OP HIS POEMS], WHICH I PRESENTED TO AN OLD 

HEART, THEN MARRIED. 

Once fondly Iov'q, and still remember'd dear, 
Sweet early object of my youthful vows. 

Accept this mark of friendship, warm, sincere ; 
Friendship ! 'tis all cold duty now allows. 

And when you read the simple, artless rhymes. 
One friendly sigh for him, he asks no more. 

Who distant burns in flaming, torrid climes. 
Or haply lies beneath th' Atlantic roar. 



THE POET'S WELCOME TO HIS ILLEGITIMATE CHILD. 



Thou's welcome, wean I mishanterfa' 

me, 
If ought of thee, or of thy mammy, 
Shall ever danton me, or awe me. 

My sweet wee lady. 
Or if I blush when thou shalt ca* me 

Tit-ta or daddy. 

Wee image of my bonie Betty, 
I fatherly will kiss and daut thee. 
As dear an' near my heart I set thee 

Wi' as gude will. 
As a' the priests had seen me get thee 

That's out o' hell. 

What tho' they ca' me fornicator, 
An* tease my name in kintra clatter ; 
The mair they talk I'm kent the better, 

E'en let them clash ; 
An auld wife's tongue's a recKless 
matter 

To gie ane fash* 



Sweet fruit o' monie a merry dint. 

My funny toil is now a' tint, 

c. ' ■'bou came to the warl asklent, 

Which fools may scoff at; 
In my last plack thy part's be in't— 

The better haff o't. 

An' if thou be what I wad hae thee, 
An' tak the counsel I shall gie thee, 
A lovin' father I'll be to thee, 

If thou be spared 
Thro' a' thy childish years I'll ee thee. 

An' think't weel war'd. 

Gude grant that thou may aye inherit 
Thy mither's person, grace, an' merit, 
An" thy poor worthless daddy's spirit. 

Without his failins, 
'Twill please me mair to hear an see't, 

Thm. stockit mai^m. 



Ud 



LETTER TO JAMES TENNANT. 



LETTER TO JOHN GOUDIE, KILMARNOCK, 



ON THE PUBLICATION OP HIS ESSAYS. 



O GouDiE ! terror of the Whigs, 
Dread o' black coats and rev'rend 

wigs. 
Sour Bigotry, on her last legs, 

Girnin' looks back, 
Wishin' the ten Egyptian plagues 

Wad seize you quick. 

Poor gapiu' glowrin' Superstition, 
Waes me ! she's in a sad condition ; 
Fy, bring Black-Jock, her state phy- 
sician. 

To see her water ; 
Aliis ! there's ground 'o great suspicion 

She'll ne'er get better. 

Auld Orthodoxy lang did grapple, 
But now she's got an unco' ripple ; 
Haste, gic her name up i' the chapel. 



Nigh unto death ; 
See how she fetches at the thrapple. 
An' gasps for breath. 

Enthusiasm's past redemption, 
Gaen in a galloping consumption, 
Not a' the quacks, with a' their gump 
tion. 

Will ever mend her. 
Her feeble pulse gies strong presump 
tion. 

Death soon will end her 

'Tis you and Taylor are the chiet, 
AVha are to blame for this mischief ; 
But gin the Lord's ain folks gat leave 

A toom tar-barrel 
An' twa red peats wad send relief. 

An' end the quarrel. 



LETTER TO JAMES TENNANT, GLENCONNER 



Auld comrade dear and brither sin- 
ner. 
How's a' the folk about Glenconner ; 
How do you this blae eastlin wind. 
That's like to blaw a body blind ? 
For me, my faculties are frozen, 
My dearest member nearly dozen'd. 
I've sent you here by Johnie Simson 
Twa sage philosophers to glim^^^ .^ ; 
Smith, wi' his sympathetic feenng, 
An' Reid, to common sense appealing. 
Philosophers have fought an' wran- 
gled. 
An' meikle Greek an' Latin mangled. 
Till wi' their logic-jargon tir'd. 
An' in the depth of Science mir'd. 
To common sense they now appeal, 
What wives an' wabsters see an' feel. 
But, hark ye, friend, I charge you 

strictly, 
Peruse them*^ an' return them quickly. 
For now I'm grown sae cursed douse, 
I pray an' ponder butt tl;e house, 
My shins, my lane, I there sit roastin, 
t*erusing Bunyan, Brow j an' Boston ; 
Till by an' by, if I baud on, 
m grunt a real Gospel -groan : 



Already I begin to try it, 
To cast my een up like a pyet, 
When by the g!m she tumbles o'er, 
Flutt'ring an' gaspin in her gore : 
Sae shortly you shall see me bright, 
A burning an' a shining light. 

My heart-warm love to guid auld 

Glen, 
The ace an' wale of honest men : 
When bending down wi' auld gray 

hairs, 
Beneath the load of years and cares. 
May He who made him still support 

him. 
An' views beyond the grave comfort 

him. 
His worthy fam'ly far and near, 
God bless them a' wi' grace and gear.' 
My auld school-fellow, Preachei 

Willie, 
The manly tar, my mason Billie, 
An' Auclienba}^ I wish him joy ; 
If he's a parent, lass or boy. 
May he be dad, and JNIeg the mither. 
Just five-and-forty years togither I 
An' no forgetting wabster Charlie, 
I'm told he offers very fairlj. 



EPISTLE FROM ES0PU8 TO MARIA. 147 

Au Lord, remember siugiiig Sannock, An' lastly, Jamie, for yoursel, 

Wi' hale-breeks, saxpence, au' a ban- May guardian angels tak a spell, 

nock. An' steer you seven miles south o' 

An' next, my auld acquaintance, hell : 

Nancy, But first, before you see heav'n's 

Since she is fitted to her fancy ; glory, 

An' her kind stars hae airted till her May ye get monie a merry story, 

A good chiel wi' a pick'ie siller Monie a laugh, and monie a drink, 

My kindest, best respects I sen it. An' aye enough o' needful clink. 

To cousin Kate an' sister Janet ; Now fare ye weel, an' joy be wi* 

Tell them from me, wi' cliiels be cau- . you, 

tious. For my sake this I beg it o' you, 

For, faith, they'll aiblins fin' them Assist poor Simson a' ye can, 

fashions : Ye'll fin' him just an honest man ; 

To grant a heart is fairly civil, Sae I conclude and quat my chanter 

But to grant a maidenhead's the Yours, saint or sinner, 

devil. — ^OB THE Ranteb 



EPISTLE FROM ESOPUS TO MA.^t^. 

From those drear solitudes and frowsy cells?.. 

Where nifaray Vv^ith sad repentance dwells ; 

"Where turnkeys make the jealous portal fast. 

And deal from iron hands the spare repast ; 

Where truant 'prentices, yet young in sin. 

Blush at the curious stranger peeping in ; 

Where strumpets, relics of tha drunken roar, 

Resolve to drink, nay, half to whore, no more ; 

Where tiny thieves not destin'd yet to swing. 

Beat hemp for others, riper for the string : 

From the^e dire scenes my wretched lines I date. 

To tell Maria her Esopus' fate. 

" Alas ! 1 feel I am no actor here ! " 

'Tis real hangmen, real scourges bear ! 

Prepare, Maria, for a horrid tale 

Will turn thy very rouge to deadly pale ; 

Will make thy hair, tho' erst from gipsy poU'd, 

By barber woven, and by barber sold. 

Though twisted smooth with Harry's nicest care. 

Like hoary bristles to erect and stare. 

The hero of the mimic scene, no more 

I start in Hamlet, in Othello roar ; 

Or haughty Chieftain, mid the din of arms. 

In Highland bonnet woo IMalviua's charms ; 

While sans culottes stoop up tlie mountain high. 

And steal from me Maria's prying eye. 

Bless'd Highland bonnet ! Once my proudest dress. 

Now prouder still, Maria's temples press. 

I see her wave thy towering plumes afar, 

And call each coxcomb to the wordj w^x. 



148 EPISTLE FROM ESOPUS TO MARIA. 

I see her face the first of Ireland's sons. 

And even out-Irisli his Hibernian bronze ; 

The crafty colonel leaves the tartan'd lines. 

For other wars, where he a hero shines : 

The hopeful .youth, in Scottish senate bred. 

Who owns a Bushby's heart without the head. 

Comes 'mid a string of coxcombs to display. 

That veni, vidi, xici, is his way ; 

The shrinking bard adowu an aley skulks, 

And dreads a meeting worse than Woolwich hulks; 

Though there, his heresies in church and state 

Might well award him ]\[uir and Palmer's fate : 

Still she undaunted reels and rattles on, 

And dares the public like a noontide sun. 

(What scandal call'd Maria's jaunty stagger. 

The ricket reeling of a crooked swagger ?' 

Whose spleen e'en worse than Burns's venom when 

He dips in gall unmix'd his eager pen, — 

And pours his vengeance in the burning line. 

Who christen'd thus Maria's lyre divine ; 

The idiot strum of vanity bemused. 

And even th' abuse of poesy abused ; 

Who call'd her verse a parish workhouse, made 

For motley, foundling fancies, stolen or stray'd ?) 

A workhouse ! ah, that sound awakes my woes, 

And pillows on the thorn my rack'd repose 1 

In durance vile here must I wake and weep. 

And all my frowzy couch in sorrow steep ; 

That straw where many a rogue has lain of yore. 

And vermin'd gipsies litter'd heretofore. 

Why, Lonsdale, thus thy wrath on vagrants pour. 

Must earth no rascal, save thyself, endure ? 

Must thou alone in guilt immortal swell. 

And make a vast monopoly of hell ? 

Thou know'st, the virtues cannot hate thee worse, 

The vices also, must they club their curse ? 

Or must no tiny sin to others fall. 

Because thy guilt's supreme enough for all ? 

Maria, send me to thy griefs and cares ; 

In all of thee sure thy Esopus shares. 

As thou at all mankind the flag unfurls, 

Who on my fair-one satire's vengeance hurls ? 

Who calls thee pert, affected, vain coquette, 

A wit in folly, and a fool in wit ? 

Who says that fool alone is not thy due, 

And quotes thy treacheries to prove it true ? 

Our force united on thy foes we'll turn. 

And dare the war with all of woman born : 

For who can write and speak as thou and I ? 

My periods that decyphering defy. 

And thj still matchless tongue that conquers aU repl^. 



i 

SPISTLE TO ROBERT QRABAM, ESQ 149 i 



ON A SITICIDE. 



Earth'd up here lies an imp o' hell. 

Planted by Satan's dibble — 
Poor silly wretch, he's danin'd himsel* 
To save the Lord the trouble. 

A FAREWELL. j 

Farewell, dear Friend ! may guid luck hit you, ] 

And, mang her favourites admit you ! i 

If e'er Detraction shore to smit you, j 

May nane believe him I j 

And ony De'il that thinks to get you, ^ 

Good Lord deceive him. 

THE FAREWELL. 

Farewell, old Scotia's bleak do- When bursting anguish tears my 

mains, heart. 

Far dearer than the torrid plains From thee, my Jeany, must I part ? 

Where rich ananas blow ! Thou weeping answ'rest "no ! " 

Farewell, a mother's blessing dear ! Alas ! misfortune stares my face, 

A brother's sigh i a sister's tear ! And points to ruin and disgrace, 

My Jean's hart-rending throe ! I for thy sake must go ! 

Farewell, my Bess ! tho' thou'rt bereft Thee, Hamilton, and Aiken dear. 

Of my parental care ; A grateful, warm adieu 1 i 

A faithful brother I have left, I, with a much-indebted tear, 1 

My part in him thou'lt share ! Shall still remember you ! ] 

Adieu too, to you too. All-hail then, the gale then. 

My Smith, my ])osom frien'; Wafts me from thee, dear shore 1 

When kindly you mind me. It rustles, and whistles, 

O then befriend, my Jean ! I'll never see thee more I 

EPISTLE TO ROBERT GRAHAM, ESQ., 

OF FIN TRY. 

ON THE CLOSE OP THK DISPUTED ELECTION BETWEEN SIR JAMES JOHNSTONE AND CAPTAIN 

MILLER, FOR THE DUMFRIES DISTRICT OF BOROUGHS. ; 

FiNTRY, my stay in worldly strife, ' 

Friend o' my Muse, friend o' my life, . ■ 

Are ye as idle's I am ? ] 

Come then, wi' uncouth, kintra fleg, i 
O'er Pegasus I'll fling my leg. 

And ye shall see me try him. \ 

I'll sing the zeal Drumlanrig bears 

Who left the all-important cares i 

Of princes and their darlings ; . 

And, bent on winning borough towns, | 

Came shaking hands wi' wabster loons, ] 

And kissing barefit carlins. 

■ - . > • ] 



150 EPISTLE TO ROBERT GRAHAM, ESQ. 

Combustion tliro' our boroughs rode. 
Whistling his roaring pack abroad 

Of mad unnmzzled lions ; 
As Queensberry buff and blue unfurl'd. 
And Westerha' and Hopeton hurl'd 

To every Whig defiance. 

But cautious Queensberry left the war, 
Th' unmanner'd dust might soil his star ; 

Besides, he hated bleeding ; 
But left behind him heroes bright. 
Heroes in Csesarean fight, 

Or Ciceronian pleading. 

O ! for a throat like huge IMons-Meg, 
To muster o'er each ardent Whig 

Beneath Drumlanrig's banner I 
Heroes and heroines commix, 
All in the field of politics. 

To win immortal honour. 

M'Murdo and his lovely spouse, 

(Th' euamour'd laurels kiss her brows !) 

Led on the loves and graces : 
She won each gaping burgess' heart. 
While he, all-conquering, play'd his part 

Among their wives and lasses. 

Craigdarroch led a light-arm'd corps, 
Tropes, metaphors and figures pour, 

Like Hecla streaming thunder : 
Glenriddel, skill'd in rusty coins, 
Blew up each Tory's dark designs, 

And bared the treason under. 

In either wing two champions fought, 
Redoubted Staig, who set at naught 

The wildest savage Tory : 
And Welsh, who ne'er yet flinched his ground. 
High-waved his magnum-boiunn round 

With Cyclopean fury. 

Miller brought up th' artillery ranks, 
• The many-pounders of the Banks, 

Resistless desolation ! 
While Maxwelton, that Baron bold, 
*jMid Lawson's port entrench'd his hold, 

And threatened worse damnation. 

To these what Tory hosts oppos'd. 
With these what Tory warriors clos'd. 

Surpasses my descriving : 
Squadrons extended long and large, 
With furious speed rush to tlie charge, 

Like raging devils driving. 



EPISTLE TO nOBERT GHAHAM, ESQ. ISt 

What verse can sing, what prose narrate. 
The butcher deeds of bloody fate 

Amid this mighty tulzie I 
Grim Horror girn'd — pale Terror roar'd. 
As Murther at his thrapple shor'd. 

And Hell mix'd in the brulzie. 

As Highland crags by thunder cleft. 
When lightning's fire the stormy lift. 

Hurl down with crashing rattle ; 
As flames among a hundred woods ; 
As headlong foam a hundred floods ; 

Such is the rage of battle ! 

The stubborn Tories dare to die ; 
As soon the rooted oaks would fly 

Before th' approaching fellers : 
The Whigs come on like Ocean's roar. 
When alHiis wintry billows pour 

Against the Buchan Bullers. 

Lo, from the shades of Death's deep night. 
Departed Whigs enjoy the fight, 

And think on former daring : 
The muffled murtherer of Charles 
The Magna Charta flag unfurls. 

All deadly gules its bearing: 

Nor wanting ghosts of Tory fame, 

Bold Scrimgeour follows gallant Graham, 

Auld Covenanters shiver. 
(Forgive, forgive, much w^rong'd Montrose I 
Now death and hell engulf thy foes. 

Thou liv'st on high forever !) 

Still o'er the field the combat burns, 
The Tories, Whigs, give way by turns : 

But Fate the word has spoken. 
For woman's wit and strength o' man, 
Alas 1 can do but what they can ! 

The Tory ranks are broken. 

O that my e'en were flowing burns 1 
My voice a lioness that mourns 

Her darling cubs' undoing I 
That I might greet, that I might cry. 
While Tories fall, while Tories fly. 

And furious Whigs pursuing ! 

What Whig but melts for good Sir James ? 
, Dear to his country by the names 

Friend, patron, benefactor I 
Not Pulteney's wealth can Pulteney save I 
And Hopeton falls, the generous brave ! 

And Stewart, bold as Hector f 



153 



ON THE DUKE OF QXfEENSBERRY, 



Thou, Pitt, shall rue this overthrow ; 
And Thurlow growl a curse of woe ; 

And Melville melt in wailing ! 
How Fox and Sheridan rejoice ! 
And Burke shall sing, " O Prince, arise, 

Thy power is all-prevailing ! '* 

For your poor friend, the Bard, afar 
He only hears and sees the war, 

A cool spectator purely ! 
So, when the storm the forest rends, 
The robin in the hedge descends, 

And sober chirps securely. 



STANZAS ON THE DUKE OF QUEENSBERRY. 



How shall I sing Drumlanrig's grace, 
Discarded remnant of a race 

Once great in martial story ? 
His forbears' virtues all contrasted — 
The very name of Douglas blasted — 

His that inverted glory. 

Hate, envy, oft the Douglas bore ; 



But he has superadded more 

And sunk them in contempt : 
Follies and crimes have stain'd the 

name. 
But, Queensberry, thine the virgin 
claim, 
From aught that's good exempt. 



VERSES 



ON THE DESTRUCTION OF THE 

As on the banks o' wandering Nith, 

Ae smiling simmer-morn I stray'd. 
And traced its bonie howes and haughs 

Where linties sang and lambkins 
play'd, 
I sat me down upon a craig. 

And drank my fill of fancy's dream, 
When, from the eddying deep below, 

Uprose the genius of the stream. 

Dark, like the frowning rock, his 

brow, 

And troubled, like his wintry wave, 

And deep, as sughs the boding wind 

Amang his eaves, the sigh he gave — 

" And came ye here, my son," he cried, 

" To wander in my birken shade ? 
To muse some favourite Scottish 
theme. 
Or sing some favourite Scottish 
maid. 

" There was a time, it's nae langsyne. 
Ye might hae seen me in my pride, 

When a' my banks sae bravely saw 
Their woody pictures in my tide ; 



WOODS NEAR DRUMLANRIG. 

When hanging beech and spreading 
elm 
Shaded my stream sae clear and cool, 
And stately oaks their twisted arms 
Threw broad and dark across the 
pool ; 

•* When glinting, through the trees, 
appear'd 

The wee white cot aboon the mill, 
Aud peacefu' rose its ingle reek, 

That slowly curled up the hill. 
But now that cot is bare and cauld. 

Its branchy shelter's lost and gane, 
And scarce a stinted birk is left 

To shiver in the blast its lane." 

" Alas ! " said I, " what ruefu' chance 

Has twined ye o' your stately trees ? 
Has laid your rocky bosom bare ? 

Has stripp'd the deeding o' your 
braes ? 
Was it the bitter eastern blast. 

That scatters blight in early spring? 
Or was't the wil'tire scorched their 
boughs. 

Or canker-worm wi' secret sXing t " 



EPISTLE TO MAJOR LOQAK 



153 



** Kae eastlin' blast," tlie sprite replied; 

" It blew na here sae fiei;;pe and fell, 
/^nd on mj' diy and lialesome banks 

Nae canker worms get leave to dwell; 
JVIan J cruel man ! " the genius sigh'd — 



As through the cliffs he sank him 

down — 
The worm that gnaw'd my bonie 

trees, 
That reptile wears a ducal crown," 



EPISTLE TO MAJOR LOGAN. 



Hail, thairm inspirin', rattlin' Willie ! 
Though fortune's road be rough an' 

hilly 
To every fiddling, rhyming billie, 

We never heed. 
But take it like the unback'd filly. 

Proud o' her speed. 

When idly goavan whyles we saunter, 
Yirr, fancy barks, awa' we canter 
Uphill, down brae, till some mishan- 
ter, 

Some black bog-hole, 
Arrests us, then the scathe an' banter 

We're forced to thole. 

Hale be your heart ! Hale be your 

fiddle ! 
Lang may your eibuck jink and diddle, 
To cheer you through the weary 
widdle 

O' this wild warl', 
Until you on a crummock driddle 
A gray-hair'd carl. 

Come wealth, come poortith, late or 

soon, 
Heaven send your heart-strings ay in 

tune. 
And screw your temper-pins aboon 

A fifth or mair, 
The melancholious, lazie croon, 
O' cankrie care. 

May still your life from day to day 
Nae " lente largo " in the play. 
But " allegretto forte " gay 

Harmonious flow 
A sweeping, kindling, bauld strath- 
spey- 
Encore ! Bravo 1 

A blessing on the cheery gang 
Wha dearly like a jig or sang. 
An' never think o' right an' rang 

By square an' rule. 
But as the clegs o' feeling stang 

Are wise or fool. 



My hand-waled curse keep hard in 

chase 
The harpy, hoodock, purse-proud race, 
Wha count on poortith as disgrace — 

Their tuneless hearts 
May fire-side discords jar a base 

To a' their parts ! 

But come, your hand, my careless 

brither, 
I' th' ither warl' if there's anither, 
An' that there is I've little swither 

About the matter ; 
We cheek for chow shall jog thegither, 

I'se ne'er bid better. 

We've faults and failings — granted 

clearly. 
We're frail backslidingmortals merely. 
Eve's bonie squad priests wyte them 
sheerly 

For our grand fa' ; 
But still, but still, I like them dearly — 
God bless them a' I 

Ochon for poor Castalian drinkers. 
When they fa' foul o' earthly jinkers. 
The witching cursed delicious blinkers 

Hae put me hyte. 
And gart me weet my waukrife 
winkers, 

Wi' girnin spite. 

But by yon moon ! — and that's high 

swearin' — 
An' every star within my hearin' ! 
An' by her een wha was a dear ane ! 

I'll ne'er forget j 
I hope to gie the jads a clearin' 

In fai.'" play yet. 

My loss I mourn, >ut not repent it, 
I'll seek my pur^ j whare I tint it, 
Ance to the Indies I were wonted, 

Some cantraip hour. 
By some sweet elf I'll yet be dinted, 

Then vim V amour I 



154 nSPLT TO m-R MimSTEn OT ^LADSMVriR. 

Faites mes bai.^cmainfi respect ucv fie, An' trowtli my rhymin' ware's nae 

To sentimental sister Susie, tre^ure \ 

An' honest Lucky ; no to roose you, But when in Ayr, some half hour's 

Ye may be proud, ' leisure, 

That sic a couple Fate allows ye Be't light, be't dark. 

To grace your blood. Sir Bard will do himself the pleasure 
,r . ^ * T To call at Park. 

Nae mair at present can I measure Robert Bukns. 

Mossgiel, ZOth October, 1786. 

EPITAPH ON THE POET'S DAUGHTER. 

Here lies a rose, a budding rose. 

Blasted before its bloom ; 
Whose innocence did sweets disclose 

Beyond that flower's perfume. 
To those who for her loss are grieved, 

This consolation's given — 
She's from a world of woe relieved. 

And blooms a rose in heaven. 



EPITAPH ON GABRIEL RICHARDSON. 

Here Brewer Gabriel's fire's extinct. 

And empty all his barrels : 
He's blest — if,as he brew'd, he drink. 

In upright honest morals. 



ON STIRLING. 

Here Stuarts once in glory reign'd. 
And laws for Scotland's weal ordain'd ; 
But now unroof 'd their palace stands, 
Their sceptre's sway'd by other hands ; 
The injured Stuart line is gone, 
A race outlandish fills their throne. 
An idiot race to honour lost, 
Who know them best, despise them most. 



LINES 

ON BEING TOLD THAT THE ABOVE VERSES "WOULD AFPECT HIS PROSPECTS. 

Rash mortal, and slanderous poet, thy name 

Shall no longer appear in the records of fame ; 

Dost not know that old Mansfield, who writes like the Bible, 

Says the more 'tis a truth, sir, the more 'tis a libel ? 

REPLY TO THE MINISTER OF GLADSMUIR. 

Like Esop's lion, Burns says, sore I feel 
All others scorn — but damn that ass's heel. 



ADJURESS OF BEELZiSBUB. 



155 



EPISTLE TO HUGH PARKER. 



fN this strange land, this uncouth 

clime, 
A land unknown to prose or rhyme ; 
Where words ne'er crost the Muse's 

heckles, 
Nor limpit in poetic shackles ; 
A land that prose did never view it, 
Except when drunk he stacher't 

through it ; 
Here, ambush'd by the chimla cheek, 
Hid in an atmosphere of reek, 
I hear a wheel thrum i' the neuk, 
I hear it — for in vain I leuk, — 
The red peat gleams, a fiery kfernel, 
Enhusked by a fog infernal : 
Here, for my wonted rhyming raptures, 
I sit and count my sins by chapters ; 
For life and spunk like ither Chris- 
tians, 
I'm dwindled down to mere existence, 
Wi' nae converse but Gallowa' bodies, 
Wi' nae ken face but Jenny Geddes. 
Jenny, my Pegasean pride ! 
Dowie she saunters down Nithside, 
And ay a westlin leuk she throws. 
While tears hap o'er her auld brown 
nose I 



Was it for this, wi' canny care. 
Thou bure the Bard through many a 

shire ? 
At howes or hillocks never stumbled, 
And late or early never grumbled ? — 
O, had I power like inclination, 
I'd heeze thee up a constellation, 
To canter with the Sagitarre, 
Or loup the ecliptic like a bar ; 
Or turn the pole like any arrow ; 
Or, when auld Phoebus bids good- 
morrow, 
Down the zodiac urge the race, 
And cast dirt on his godship's face ; 
For I could lay my bread and kail 
He'd ne'er cast saut upo' thy tail. — 
Wi' a' this care and a' this grief. 
And sma', sma' prospect of relief, 
And nought but peat reek i' my 

head. 
How can I write what ye can read ? — 
Tarbolton, twenty-fourth o' June, 
Ye'll find me in a better tune ; 
But till we meet and weet our whistle, 
Tak this excuse for nae epistle. 

Robert Burns. 



ADDRESS OF BEELZEBUB 



TO THE PRESIDENT OF THE HIGHLAND SOCIETY. 



Long ]ife,myLord,an' health be yours, 
Unskaith'd by hunger'd Highland 

boors ; 
Lord grant no duddie desperate beg- 
gar, 
Wi' dirk, claymore, or rusty trigger. 
May twin auld Scotland o' a life 
She likes — as lambkins like a knife. 
Faith, you and Applecross w^ere right 
To keep the Highland hounds in sight, 
I doubt na' ! they wad bid nae better 
Than let them ance out owre the water 
Than up nmang thae lakes and seas 
They'll mak' what rules and laws they 

please ; 
Some daring Hancock, or a Franklin, 
May set their Highland bluid a rank- 
lin': 



Some Washington again may head 

them, 
Or some Montgomery fearless lead 

them, 
Till God knows what may be effected 
When by such heads and hearts di- 
rected ; 
Poor dunghill sons of dirt and mire 
May to Patrician rights aspire ! 
Nae sage North, now, nor sager Sack- 

ville, 
To watch and premier o'er the pack 

vile. 
An' whare will ye get Howes and 

Clintons 
To bring them to a right repentance, 
To CO we the rebel generation. 
An' save the honour o' the nation ? 



156 



ON TEE DEATH OF ROBERT DUNDA8, ESQ. 



Tliey an' be d — d ! what right hae they 
To meat or sleep, or light o' day ! 
Far less to riches, pow'r, or freedom, 
But what your lordship likes to gie 
them? 

But hear, my lord ! Glengarry, hear 1 
Your hand's owre light on them, I 

fear ; 
Your factors, grieves, trustees, and 
i bailies, 

I canna' say but they do gaylies ; 
They lay aside a' tender mercies. 
An' tirl the hallions to the birses ; 
Yet while they're only poind't and 

herriet. 
They'll keep their stubborn Highland 

spirit ; 
But smash them ! crash them a' to 

spalls ! 
An' rot the dyvors i' the jails ! 
The young dogs, swinge them to the 

labour ! 
Let wark an' hunger mak' them sober I 
June 1, Anno Mundi, 5790. 



The hizzies, if they're aughtlins faw* 

sont, 
Let them in Drury-lane be lesson'd ! 
An' if the wives an' dirty brats 
E'en thigger at your doors an' yetts 
Flaffan wi' duds an' gray wi' beas', 
Frightin' awa your deucks and geese, 
Get out a horsewhip or a jowler. 
The langest thong, the fiercest growles", 
An' gar the tatter'd gypsies pack 
Wi' a' their bastarts on their back ! 
Go on, my lord ! I lang to meet you. 
An' in my house at hame to greet you ; 
Wi' conunon lords ye shanna mingle. 
The beumost neuk beside the ingle, 
At my right hand assign'd your seat 
'Tween Herod's hip an' Polycrate, — 
Or if you on your station tarrow 
Between Almagro and Pizarro, 
A seat, I'm sure, ye're weel desorvin't ; 
An' till ye come — ^your humble ser- 
vant, 

Beelzebub. 



TO MR. JOHN KENNEDY. 



Kow Kenned}^, if foot or horse 
E'er bring you in by Mauchline Corss, 
Lord man, there's lasses there wad 
force 

A hermit's fancy. 
And down the gate in faith they're 
worse 

And mair unchancy. 

But as I'm sayin' please step to Dow's 
And taste sic gear as Johnny brews. 
Till some bit callan brings me news 

That you are there. 
And if we dinna have a bouze 

I'se ne'er drink mair. 

It's no I like to sit an' swallow. 
Then like a swine to puke an' wallow, 



But gie me just a true good fallow 

Wi' right ingine. 
And spunkie ance to make us mellow, 

And then we'll shine. 

Now if ye're ane o' warl's folk, 
Wlia rate the wearer by the cloak. 
An' sklent on poverty their joke, 

Wi' bitter sneer, 
Wi' you no friendship I will troke 

Nor cheap nor dear. 

But if, as I'm informed weel. 
Ye hate as ill's the vera deil. 
The flinty hearts that canna feel — 

Come, Sir, here's tae you ; 
Hae there's my liaun' I wiss you weel 

An' gude be wi' you. 



ON THE DEATH OF ROBERT DUNDAS, ESQ.. 

OP AKNISTON, LATE LORD PRESIDENT OP THE COURT OP SESSION. 

Lone on the bleaky hills the straying flocks 
Shun the fierce storms among the sheltering rocks ; 
Down from the rivulets, red with dashing rains, 
The gathering floods burst o'er the distant plains ; 
Beneath the blasts the leafless forests groan ; 
The hollow caves return a sullen moan. 



ON THE DEATH OF A LAP-DOG, 15? 

Ye hills, ye plains, ye forests, and ye caves. 
Ye howling winds, and wintry swelling waves ! 
Unheard, unseen, by human ear or eye, 
Sad to your sympathetic scenes I fly ; 
Where to the whistling blast and water's roar. 
Pale Scotia's recent wound I may deplore. 

O heavy loss, thy country ill could bear 1 

A. loss these evil days can ne'er repair ! 

Justice, the high vicegerent of her God, 

Her doubtful balance eyed, and sway'd her rod' 

Hearing the tidings of the fearful blow, 

She sunk, abandon'd to the wildest woe. 

Wrongs, injuries, from many a darksome den. 
Now gay in hope, explore the paths of men : 
See from his cavern grim Oppression rise. 
And throw on Poverty his cruel eyes ; 
Keen on the helpless victim see him fly. 
And stifle, dark, the feebly-bursting cry : 

Mark ruflian Violence, distain'd with crimes. 

Rousing elate in these degenerate times ; 

View unsuspecting Innocence a prey, 

As guileful Fraud points out the erring way ; 

While subtle Litigation's pliant tongue 

The life-blood equal sucks of Right and Wrong • 

Hark, injured Want recounts th' unlisten'd tale, 

And much-wrong'd Mis'ry pours th' unpitied wail ! 

Ye dark waste hills, and brown unsightly plains. 
To you I sing my grief-inspired strains ; 
Ye tempests rage ! ye turbid torrents, roll I 
Ye suit the joyless tenor of my soul. 
Life's social haunts and pleasures I resign, 
Be nameless wilds and lonely wanderings mine. 
To mourn the woes my country must endure. 
That wound degenerate ages cannot cure. 



TO JOHN M'MURDO, ESQ. 

O, COULD I give thee India's wealth. But golden sands did never grace 

As I this trifle send ! The Heliconian stream ; 

Because thy joy with both would be Then take what gold could never buy- 
To share them with a friend. An honest Bard's esteem. 



ON THE DEATH OF A LAP-DOG 

NAMED ECHO, 

In wood and wild, ye warbling throng. Ye jarring, screeching things around. 

Your heavy loss deplore ; Scream your discordant joys ; 

Now half-extinct your powers of song. Now half your din of tuneless sound 

3weet ^cjtio is no more. WitJti Echo siieat lies. 



158 



ORTHODOX, ORTHODOX. 



LINES WRITTEN AT LOUDON MANSE. 



The night was still, and o'er the hill 
The moon shone on the castle wa'; 

The mavis sang, while dew-drops han^ 
Around her on the castle wa'. 



Sac merrily they danced the ring 
Frae cenin' till the cock did craw 

And aye the o'erword o' the spring. 
Was Irvine's bairns are bonie a'. 



ORTHODOX, ORTHODOX. 

A SECOND VEUSION OF THE KIRK'S ALABM. 



Orthodox, orthodox, 
Who believe in John Knox, 
Let me sound an alarm to your con- 
science — 
There's an heretic blast, 
lias been blawn i' the wast 
That what is not sense must be non- 
sense, 

Orthodox, 
That what is not sense must be non- 
sense. 

Doctor Mac, Doctor Mac, 

Ye should stretch on a rack. 
To strike evil-doers wi' terror ; 

To join faith and sense. 

Upon any pretence, 
Was heretic damnable error. 

Doctor Mac, 
Was heretic damnable error. 

Town of Ayr, town of Ayr, 

It Avas rash, I declare, 
To meddle wi' mischief a-brewing ; 

Provost John is still deaf 

To the church's relief, 
And orator Bob is its ruin, 

Town of Ayr, 
And orator Bob is its ruin, 

D'rymple mild, D'rymple mild, 
Tho' your heart's like a child. 
And your life like the new-driven 
snaw. 
Yet that winna save ye, 
Old Satan must have ye 
For preaching that three's ane an' twa, 

D'rymple mild. 
For preaching that three's ane an' twa. 

Calvin's sons, Calvin's sons, 
Seize your spiritual guns. 
Ammunition you never can need ; 
Your hearts are the stuff. 
Will be powder enough. 



And your skulls are a storehouse of 

lead, 

Calvii?.'s sons. 
And your skulls are a storehouse of 

lead. 

Rumble John, Rumble John, 
Mount the steps with a groan. 

Cry the book is with heresy cramm'd , 
Then lug out your ladle, 
Deal brimstone like aidle. 

And roar every note o' the damn'd. 
Rumble John, 

And roar every note o' the damn'd. 

Simper James, Simper James, 
Leave the fair Killie dames. 

There's a holier chase in your view ,• 
I'll lay on your head, 
That the pack ye'll soon lead, 

For puppies like you there's but fevy, 
Simper James, 

For puppies like you there's but fe'w . 

Singet Sawnie, Singet Sawnle, 

Are ye herding the penny. 
Unconscious what danger awaits ? 

With a jump, yell, and howl, 

Alarm every soul, 
For Hannibal's just at your gates, 

Singet Sawnie, 
For Hannibal's just at your gates. 

Andrew Gowk, Andrew Go A^k, 
Ye may slander the book, 
And the book nought the waar -let 
me tell you ; 
Tho' ye're rich and look big, 
Yet lay by hat and wig, 
And ye'll hae a calf's head o' sma' 
value, 

Andrew Gowk, 
And ye'll hae a calf's-head o' sma' 
value. 



THE SELKIRK GRACE. 



159 



Poet Willie, Poet Willie, 
Gie the doctor a volley, 
Wi' your "liberty's chain" and your 
wit ; 
O'er Pegasus' side 
Ye ne'er laid a stride, 
Ye only stood by when he sh — , 

Poet Willie, 
Ye only stood by when he sh — . 

Bar Steenic, Bar Steenie, 

What mean ye ? what mean ye ? 

If ye'll meddle nae mair wi' the matter, 
Ye may hac some pretence, man, 
To havins and sense, man, 

Wi' people that ken you nae better, 
Bar Steenie, 

Wi' people that ken you nae better. 

Jamie Goose, Jamie Goose, 
Ye hae made but toom roose, 
O' hunting the wicked lieutenant ; 
But the doctor's your mark 
For the Lord's holy ark, 
He has cooper'd and ca'd a wrong pin 
in't. 

Jamie Goose, 
He has cooper'd and cad a wrong pin 
in't. 

Davie Bluster, Davie Bluster, 
For a saunt if ye muster. 

It's a sign they're no nice o' recruits, 
Yet to worih let's be just. 
Royal blood ye might boast. 

If the ass were the King o' the brutes, 
Davie Bluster, 

If the ass were the King o' the brutes. 

Muirland George, M u i r 1 a n d 

George, 
Whomlhe Lord made a scourge. 
To claw common sense for her sins ; 
If ill manners were wit. 
There's no mortal so fit 



To confound the poor doctor at ancCp 

Muirland George, 
To confound the poor doctor at auce, 

Cessnockside, Cessnockside, 

Wi' your turkey-cock pride, 

O' manhood but sma' is 3 our share ! 

You've the figure, it's true. 

Even your foes maun allow, 

And your friends daurna say ye hae 

mair, 

Cessnockside, 
And your friends daurna say ye had 
m^ir. 

Daddie Auld, Daddie Auld, 

There's a tod i' the fauld, 
A tod meikle M-aur than the clerk ; 

Tho' ye downa do skaith, 

Yc'll be in at the death, 
And if ye canna bite ye can bark, 

Daddie Auld, 
And if ye canna bite ye can bark. 

Poet Burns, Poet Burns, 

Wi' your priest-skelping turns. 

Why desert ye 3'our auld native shire ? 
Tho' your Muse is a gipsy, 
Yet were she even tipsy. 

She could ca' us nae waur than we are, 
Poet Burns, 

She could ca' us nae waur than we are, 



POSTSCRIPT. 

Af ton's Laird, Af ton's Laird, 

When your pen can be spared, 
A copy o' this I bequeath. 

On the same sicker score 

I mentioned before, 
To that trusty auld worthy Clackleith, 

Aftou's Laird, 
To that trusty auld worthy Clackleitb. 



THE SELiaRK GRACE. 

Some hae meat, and canna eat. 
And some wad eat that want it 

But we hae meat and we can eat. 
And sae the Lord be tbankefc. 



160 THE REGO VER T OF JESSIE LEWARS. 



ELEGY OK THE DEATH OF PEG NICHOLSON. 

Peg Nicholson was a gude bay mare, Peg Nicliolson was a gude bay mare. 

As ever trode on airn ; An' ance she bare a priest ; 

But now she's floating down the Nith, But now she's floating down the Nith, 

An' past the mouth o' Cairn. For Sohvay fish a feast. 

Peg Nicholson was a gude bay mare, Peg Nicholson was a gude bay mare. 

An' rode thro' thick an' thin ; An' the priest he rode her sair ; 

But now she's floating down the An' meikle oppress'd an' bruised sIm 

Nith, was, 

An' wanting even the skin. As priest-rid cattle are. 



ON SEEING MISS FONTENELLE 

IN A FAVOURITK CHARACTER. 

Sweet naivete of feature, Wert thou awkward, stiff, affected^ 
Simple, wild, enchanting elf, Spurning nature, torturing art; 

Kot to thee, but thanks to Nature, Loves and graces all rejected. 
Thou art acting but thyself. Then indeed Ihou'dst act a part. 



THE SOLEMN LEAGUE AND COVENANT. 

The Solemn League and Covenant 
Now brings a smile, now brings a tear ; 

But sacred Freedom, too, was theirs ; 
If thou'rt a slave, indulge thy sneer. 



ON MISS JESSY LEWARS. 

Talk not to me of savages But Jessy's lovely hand in mine, 

From Afric's burning sun, A mutual faith to plight, 

No savage e'er could rend my heart. Not ev'n to view the heavenly choii 

As, Jessy, thou hast done. Would be so blessed a sight. 



EPITAPH ON MISS JESSY LEWARS. 

Say, Sages, what's the charm on earth 

Can turn Deatl'i's dart aside ? 
It is not purity and worth, 

Else Jessy had not died. 



THE RECOVERY OF JESSY LEWARS. 

But rarely seen since Nature's birth, 

The natives of the sky, 
Yet still one Seraph's left on earth, 

^ov ies&j did noi dis^ 



ON ROBERT RIDDEL, 161 



THE TOAST. 

Fill me with the rosy wine. 
Call a toast, a toast divine ; 
Give the Poet's darling flame. 
Lovely Jessy be the name ; 
Then thou mayest freely boast. 
Thou hast given a peerless toast. 



THE KIRK OF LAMINGTOK 

As cauld a wind as ever blew, 
A caulder kirk, and in't but few ; 
As cauld a minister's e'er spak, 
Ye'se a' be het ere I come back. 



WRITTEN ON A BLANK LEAF 

OP ONE OP MISS HANNAH MORB'S WORKS, WHICH SHE HAD GIVEN HIM. 

Thou flattering mark of friendship She show'd her tastes refined and juf#, 

kind, When she selected thee. 

Still may thy pages call to mind Yet deviating own I must 

The dear, the beauteous donor ; For so approving me. 

Though sweetly female every part, But kind still, I'll mind stiil 

Yet such a head, and more the The giver in the gift ; 

heart, I'll bless her and wiss her 

Does both the sexes honour. A Friend above the Lift. 



INSCRIPTION ON A GOBLET. 

WRITTEN IN THE HOUSE OP MR. STME. 

There's death in the cup — sae beware ! 

Nay, more — there is danger in touching ; 
But wha can avoid the fell snare ? 

The man and his wine's sae bewitching ! 

THE BOOK-WORMS. 

Through and through the inspired leaves. 
Ye maggots, make your windings ; 

But, oh ! respect his lordship's taste, 
And spare his golden bindings. 

ON ROBERT RIDDEL. 

To Riddel, much-lamented man. 

This ivied cot was dear ; 
Beader, dost value matchless worth ? 

Tljis ivied cot rever§. 



102 



LINES WRITTEN ON A BANK-NOTE. 



WILLIE CHALMERS. 



Wi* braw new branks in mickle pride, 

And eke a braw new brechan, 
My Pegasus I'm got astride, 

And'up Parnassus pechin ; 
Whiles ovvre a busb wi' downward 
crush, 

The doiled beastie stammers ; 
Then up he gets and off he sets 

For sake o' Willie Chalmers. 

^ doubt na, lass, that weel kenn'd 
name 

May cost a pair o' blushes ; 
I am nae stranger to your fame 

Nor his warm urged wishes. 
Your bonie face sae mild and sweet, 

His honest heart enamours, 
And faith ye'll no be lost a' whit, 

Tho' waircd on Willie Chalmers. 

Auld Truth hersel' might swear ye're 
fair, 

And Honour safely back her. 
And Modesty assume your air. 

And ne'er a ane mistak' her : 
And gic tvA^a love-inspiring een 

]\Iighi fire even holy Palmers ; 
No wonder then they've fatal been 

To honest Willie Chalmers. 



I doubt na fortune may you shore 

Some mini - mou'd pouther'd 
priestie, 
Fu' lifted up wi' Hebrew lore. 

And band upon his brea&tie : 
But oh ! what signifies to you, 

His lexicons and grammars ; 
The feeling heart's the royal blue. 

And that's wi' Willie Chalmers. 

Some gapin' glowrin' count ra laird 

May warsle for your favour ; 
May claw his lug, and straik his 
beard, 

And host up some palaver. 
My bonie maid, before ye wed 

Sic clumsy-witted hammers. 
Seek Heaven for help, and barefit 
skelp, 

Awa' wi' Willie Chalmers. 

Forgive the Bard ! my fond regard 

For ane that shares my bosom. 
Inspires my muse to gie 'm his dues. 

For de'il a hair I roose him. 
May powers aboon unite you soon, 

And fructify your amours — 
And every year come in mair dear 

To you and Willie Chalmers. 



TO JOHN TAYLOR 



With Pegasus upon a day, 

Apollo weary flying. 
Through frosty hills the journey lay. 

On foot the way was plying. 

Poor slip-shod giddy Pegasus 

Was but a sorry walker ; 
To Vulcan then Apollo goes. 

To get a frosty calker. 



Obliging Vulcan fell to work, 
Threw by his coat and bonnet. 

And did Sol's business with a crack 
Sol paid him with a sonnet. 

Ye Vulcan's sons of Wanlockhead, 

Pity my sad disaster ; 
My Pegasus is poorh' shod — 

I'll pay you like my master 



LINES WRITTEN ON A BANK-NOTE. 

Wae worth thy power, thou cursed leaf ! 
Fell source o' a' my woe and grief ! 
For lack o' thee I've lost my lass 1 
For lack o' thee I scrimp my glass t 
I see the children of afliiction 
Uuaided, thro' thy curs'^ refitrictioix. 



THE TOAD-EATER. 163 

I've seen the oppressor's cruel smile. 
Amid his hapless victim's spoil. 
For lack o' thee I leave this much-lov'd shore. 
Never, perhaps, to greet old Scotland more. 

R. B. Kyle, 

THE LOYAL NATIVES' VERSES. 

Te sons of sedition, give ear to my song. 
Let Syme, Burns, and Maxwell pervade every throng, 
With Cracken the attorney, and Mundell the quack, j 
Send Willie the monger to hell with a smack. 

These verses were handed over the table to Burns at a convivial meeting, and he endorsed tht 
sul^oined reply : 

BURNS— EXTEMPORE. 

Ye true " Loyal Natives," attend to my song. 

In uproar and riot rejoice the night long ; 

From envy and hatred your corps is exempt ; 

But where is your shield from the darts of contempt ? 

REMORSE. 

Of all the numerous ills that hurt our peace, 

That press the soul, or wring the mind with anguish, 

Beyond comparison the worst are those 

That to our folly or our guilt we owe. 

In every other circumstance, the mind 

Has this to say — " It was no deed of mine **; 

But when to all the evil of misfortune 

This sting is added — " Blame thy foolish self I" 

Or worser far, the pangs of keen Remorse ; 

The torturing, gnawing consciousness of guilt — 

Of guilt perhaps, where we've involved others ; 

The young, the innocent, who fondly lov'd us, 

Nay, more, that very love their cause of ruin ! 

O burning hell ! m all thy store of torments, 

There's not a keener lash ! 

Lives there a man so firm, who, while his heart 

Feels all the bitter horrors of his crime. 

Can reason down its agonizing throbs ; 

And, after proper purpose of amendment. 

Can firmly force his jarring thoughts to peace ? 

O, happy ! happy ! enviable man ! 

O glorious magnanimity of soul ! 

THE TOAD-EATER. 

What of earls with whom you have supt, 
And of dukes that you dined with yestreen ? 

Lord ! a louse. Sir, is still but a louse, 
Though it crawl on the curls of a Queen. 



164 I BXTRN, I BURN, 

TO . 



Moscgiel, ITSi 



Sir, 

Yours this moment I unseal. But foorsday, Sir, my promise leal 

And faith I am gay and hearty I Expect me o' your party, 

To tell the truth an' shame the Deil If on a beastie 1 can speel, 

I am as fu' as Bartie : Or hurl in a cartie. R. B, 

" IN VAIN WOULD PRUDENCE." 

In vain would Prudence, with decorous sneer. 
Point out a cens'ring world, and bid me fear ; 
Above that world on wings of love I rise, 
I know its worst — and can that worst despise. 
** Wrong'd, injur'd, shunn'd ; unpitied, unredrcsfc. 
The mock'd quotation of the scorner's jest." 
Let Prudence' direct bodements on me fall, 
Glarinda, rich reward 1 o'erpays them all ! 

"THOUGH FICKLE FORTUNE.'' 

Though fickle Fortune has deceiv'd me. 

She promis'd fair and perform'd but ill ; 
Of mistress, friends, and wealth bercav'd me. 

Yet I bear a heart shall support me still.— 

I'll act with prudence as far's I'm able. 

But if success I must never find, 
Then come misfortune, I bid thee welcome, 

I'll meet thee with an undaunted mind.— 

"I BURN, I BURN." 

** I BURN, I burn, as when thro' ripen'd corn 

By driving winds the crackling flames are borne,** 

Now maddening, wild, I curse that fatal night ; 

Now bless the hour wliich charm'd my guilty sight. 

In vain the laws their feeble force oppose : 

Chain'd at his feet they groan. Love's vanquish'd foes 

In vain religion meets my sinking eye ; 

I dare not combat — but I turn and fly ; 

Conscience in vain upbraids th' unhallow'd fire ; 

Love grasps his scorpions — stifled they expire I 

Reason drops headlong from his sacred throne. 

Your dear idea reigns and reigns alone ; 

Each thought intoxicated homage yields. 

And riots wanton in forbidden fields ! 

By all on high adoring mortals know I 
By all the conscious villain fears below ! 
By your dear self ! — the last great oath I swear ; 
K'or life nor soul were eyer half so dear I 



i^MuLOOtlM. 166 



EPIGRAM ON A NOTED COXCOMB. 

Light lay the earth on Billy's breast. 

His chicken heart so tender ; 
But build a castle on his head, 

His skull will prop it under. 

TAM THE CHAPMAN. 

As Tarn the Chapman on a day 

Wi' Death foregather'd by the way, 

Weel pleased, he greets a wight sae famous. 

And Death was nae less pleased wi' Thomas, 

Wha cheerfully lays down the pack. 

And there blaws up a hearty crack ; 

His social, friendly, honest heart, 

Sae tickled Death they could na part : 

Sae after viewing knives and garters. 

Death takes him hame to gie him quarters. 

TO DR. MAXWELL. 

ON MISS JESST STAIG's RECOVERY. 

Maxwell, if merit here you crave. 

That merit I deny : 
You save fair Jessy from the grave 1 

An Angel could not die. 

FRAGMENT. 

Kow health forsakes that angel face, The cruel powers reject the prayer 
Nae mair my dearie smiles ; I hourly mak' for thee ; 

Pale sickness withers ilka grace. Ye heavens, how great is my despair, 
And a' my hopes beguiles. How can I see him dee ! 

THERE'S NAETHIN LH^E THE HONEST NAPPY. 

There's naethin like the honest I've seen me daez't upon a time ; 

nappy ! I scarce could wink or see a styme ; 

Whaur'll ye e'er see men sae happy. Just ae hauf mutchkin does me 
Or women sonsie, saft an' sappy, prime, 

'Tween morn an' morn, Ought less is little. 

As them wha like to taste the drappie Then back I rattle on the rhyme 

In glass or horn. As gleg's a whittle > 

PROLOGUE. 

SPOKEN BT MR. WOODS, ON HIS BENEFIT-NIGHT, MONDAY, APRH. 16, 1787. 

When by a generous public's kind acclaim. 
That dearest meed is granted— honest fame ; 
When here your favour is the actor's lot. 
Nor even the man in private life forgot j 



166 N-ATXTBE'S LAW. 

What breast so dead to heav'nly virtue's glow. 
But heaves impassioned with the grateful throe ? 

Poor is the task to please a barb'rous throng, 
It needs no Siddons' power in Southerns' song : 
But here an ancient nation, fani'd afar 
For genius, learning high, as great in war — 
Hail, Caledonia ! name for ever dear ! 
Before whose sons I'm honour'd to appear I 
Where every science, ever}^ nobler art — 
That can inform the mind, or mend the heart, 
Is known ; as grateful nations oft have found, 
For as the rude barbarian marks the bound. 
Philosophy, no idle, pedant dream. 
Here holds lier search, by heaven-taught Reason's beam, 
Here History paints with elegance and force, 
The tide of Empire's flu2tuating course ; 
Here Douglas forms wild Shakespeare into plan. 
And Harley rouses all the god In man, 
AVhen well-form'd taste and sparkling wit unite. 
With manly love, or female beauty bright, 
(Beauty, whose faultless symmetr}' and grace 
Can only charm us in the second place,) 
Witness my heart, how oft with panting fear, 
As on this night, I've met these judges liere 1 
But still the hope Experience taught to live. 
Equal to judge — you're candid to forgive. 
No hundred-headed Riot here we meet, 
With decency and law beneath his feet, 
Nor Insolence assumes fair Freedom's name ; 
Like Caledonians, you applaud or blame. 

O Tiiou, dread Power ! whose empire-giving liand 
Has oft been stretch'd to shield the honour'd land, 
Strong may she glow with all her ancient fire ; 
May every son be worthy of his sire ; 
Firm may she rise with generous disdain 
At Tyranny's, or direr Pleasure's chain ; 
Still self-dependent in her native shore. 
Bold may she brave grim Danger's loudest roar, 
Till Fate the curtain drop on worlds to be no more. 



NATURE'S LAW. 

1 POEM HUMBLY INSCRIBED TO G. H., ESQ. 

Great nature spoke, observant man obeyed. 

Pope. 

Let other heroes boast their scars Great Nature spoke, with air benign, 

The marks of sturt and strife : "Go on, ye human race ! 

And other Poets sing of wars, This lower world I you resign ; 

The plagues of human life ; Be fruitful and increase. 

Shame fa' the fun ; wi" sword and gun The liquid fire of strong desire 

To slap mankind like lumber ! I've pour'd it in each bosom ; 

I sing his name and nobler fame. Here, in this hand, does mankind stand, 

Wha multiplies our number. . And there, is Beauty's blossom 1 " 



TBAGIG FRAGMENT, 167 

The Hero of these artless strains, Auld, cantie Coil may count the day, 

A lowly Bard was he, ' As annual it returns, 

Who sung his rhymes in Coila's plains The third of Libra's equal sway. 

With meikle mirth an' glee ; That gave another Burns, 

Kind Nature's care hadgiven his share, With future rhymes, an' other times. 

Large, of the flaming current ; To emulate his sire ; 

And, all devout, he never sought To sing auld Coil in nobler style 

To stem the sacred torrent. With more poetic fire. 

He felt the powerful, high behest. Ye Powers of peace, and peaceful 

Thrill, vital, thro' and thro': song, 

And sought a correspondent breast. Look down with gracious eyes ; 

To give obedience due ; And bless auld Coila, large and long, 

Propitious Powers screen'd the young With multiplying joys. 

flow'rs, Long may she stand to prop the land, 

From mildews of abortion ; The flow'r of an(;ient nations ; 

A.nd lo ! the Bard, a great reward. And Burnses spring, her fame to sing, 

Has got a double portion I To endless generations 1 

THE CATS LIKE KITCHEK 

The cats like kitchen ; chorus. 

The dogs like broo ; And we're a' noddin. 

The lasses like the lads weel, Nid, nid, noddin. 

And th' auld wives too. We're a' noddin fou at e'ea, 

TRAGIC FRAGMENT. 

All devil as I am, a damned wretch, 

A harden'd, stubborn, unrepenting villain, 

Still my heart melts at human wretchedness ; 

And with sincere tho' unavailing sighs 

I view the helpless children of distress. 

With tears of indignation I behold the' oppressor 

Rejoicing in the honest man's destruction. 

Whose unsubmitting heart was all his crime. 

Even you, ye helpless crew% I pity you ; 

Ye, whom the seeming good think sin to pity ; 

Ye poor, despis'd, abandon'd vagabonds. 

Whom Vice, as usual, has turn'd o'er to Ruin. 

but for kind, tho' ill-requited friends, 

1 have been driven forth like you forlorn. 

The most detested, worthless wretch among you ! 

O injur'd God ! Thy goodness has endow'd me 

With talents passing most of my compeers. 

Which I in just proportion have abus'd. 

As far surpassing other common villains. 

As Thou in natural parts hadst given me more. 

EXTEMPORE. 

ON PASSING A lady's CARRIAGB. [mRS. MARIA RIDDBL'S.] 

If you rattle along like your mistress's tongue. 

Your speed will out-rival the dart ; 
But, a fly for your load, you'll break down on the road„ 

If your stuff be as rott^ja's her heart. 



I6d 



FRAQMENTB. 



FRAGMENTS. 



Ye hae lien a' wrang, lassie, 

Ye've lien a' wrang ; 
Ye've lie in an unco bed. 

And wi' a fremit man. 
O ance ye danced upon the knowes. 

And ance ye lightly sang — 
But in herrjing o' a bee byke, 

I'm rad ye've got a stang. 



GiE my love brose, brose, 

1 Gie my love brose and butter ; 
For uane in Carrick or Kyle 

f Can please a lassie better. 
The lav'rock lo'es the grass, 
I The muirhen lo'es the heather ; 
But gie me a braw moonlight, 
And me and my love together. 



liASS, when your mitlier is fra hame, 

Might I but be sae bauld 
As come to youi bower-window. 

And creep in frae the cauld. 
As come to your bower-window. 

And when it's cauld and wat. 
Warm me in thy sweet bosom ; 

Fair lass, wilt thou do that ? 

Young man, gif ye should be sae kind. 

When our gudewife's frae hame. 
As come to my bower-window, 

Wliare I am laid my lane, 
And warm thee in my bosom — 

But I will tell thee what, 
The way to me lies througli the kirk ; 

Young man, do you hear that ? 



I MET a lass, a bonnie lass. 

Coming o'er the braes o'er Couper, 
Bare her leg and bright her een. 

And handsome ilka bit about her. 
Weel I wat she was a quean 

Wad made a body's mouth to water; 



Our Mess John, wi his lyart pow 
His haly lips wat licKit at her. 



O WAT ye what my minniedid, 
My minnie did, my minnie did, 

wat ye what my minnie did. 
On Tysday 'teen to me, jo ? 

She laid me in a saf t bed, 

A saft bed, a saf I bed, 
She laid me in a saft bed, 

And bade gudeen to me, jo. 

A-n' wat ye what the parson did, 

The parson did, the parson did. 
An' wat ye what the parson did, 

A' for a penny fee, jo ? 
He loosed on me a lang man, 

A mickle man, a Strang man. 
He loosed on me a lang man, 

That might hae worried me, jo. 

An' I was but a young thing, 
A young thing, a young tiling. 

An' 1 was but a young thing, 
Wi' nane to pity me, jo, 

1 wat the kirk was in the wyte, 
In the wyte, in the wyte, 

To pit a young thing in a fright. 
An' loose a man on me , jo. 



CAN ye labour lea, young man, 
An' can ye labour lea ; 

Gae back the gate ye cam' again, 
Ye'se never scorn me. 

1 feed a man at Martinmas, 
W' arle pennies three ; 

An' a' the taut I fan wi' him. 
He couldna labour lea. 

The stibble rig is easy plough'd. 

The fallow land is free ; 
But wlia wad keep the handless coof 

That coudna labour lea ? 



Jenny M'Craw, she has ta'en to the heather. 
Say, was it the covenant carried her thither ; 
Jenny M'Craw to the mountain is gane. 
Their leagues and their covenjints a' she has ta'en ,- 
My head and my heart, now quo' she, are at rest. 
And as for the lave, let the Deil do his best. 



AJUSWBB TO A POETICAL EPISTLE, 



169 



The last braw bridal that I was at, 

'Twas on a Hallowmass day, 
And there was routh o' drink and fun, 

And niickle mirth and play. 
The bells they rang, and the carlins 
sang. 

And the dames danced in the ha' ; 
The bride went to bed wi' the silly 
bridegroom. 

In the midst o' her kimmers a*. 



O Thou, in whom we live and move. 

Who mad'st the sea and shore ; 
Thy goodness constantly we prove. 

And grateful would adore. 
And if it please thee, Pow'r above. 

Still grant us with such store ; 
The friend we trust, the fair we love. 

And we desire no more. 



Lord, we thank an' thee adore. 
For temp'ral gifts we little merit ; 

At present we will ask no more. 
Let William Hyslop give the spirit 



There came a piper out o' Fife, 
I watna what they ca'd him ; 

He play'd our cousin Kate a springy 
When fient a body bade him. 

And ay the mair he hotch'd an' blew, 
The mair that she forbade him. 



The black-headed eagle, 

As keen as a beagle. 
He hunted o'er height and owre how©, 

But fell in a trap 

On the braes o' Gemappe, 
E'en let hirn come out as he dowe. 



EPITAPH ON WILLIAM NICOL. 

Ye maggots feast on Nicol's brain. 
For few sic feasts ye've gotten ; 

And fix your claws in Nicol's heart. 
For de'il a bit o't's rotten. 



ANSWER TO A POETICAL EPISTLE 

SENT THE AUTHOR BY A TAILOR. 



What ails ye now, ye lousie bitch, 
To thresh my back at sic a pitch ? 
Losh, man I hae mercy wi' your natch, 

Your bodkin's bauld, 
I didna suffer ha'f sae much 

Frae Daddie Auld. 

I What tho' at times Avhen I grow cross 

I I gi'e their wames a random pouse, 
lis that enough for you to souse 

Your servant sae ? 
Gae mind your seam, ye prick-the- 
louse. 
An' jag-the-flae. 

King David o' poetic brief. 
Wrought 'mang the lasses such mis- 
chief 
As fill'd his after life wi' grief 

An' bloody rants, 
An' yet he's rank'd nmang the chief 
0' laug-syne saunts. 



And maybe, Tam, for a' my cants. 
My wicked rhymes, an' drucken rant% 
I'll gie auld cloven Clooty's haunts 

An unco slip yet, 
An' snugly sit amang the saunts, 

At Davie's hip yet. 

But fegs, the Sessions says I maun 

Gae fa' upo' anither plan, 

Than garren lasses cowp the cran 

Clean heels owre body, 
And sairly thole their mither's ban 

Afore the howdy. 

This leads me on, to tell for sport. 
How I did wi' the Session sort — 
Auld Clinkum at the Inner port 

Cry'd three times, " Robin I 
Come hither, lad, an' answer for't, 

Ye're blam'd for jobbin'/' 



170 THE HENPEGK'D HJJSBAND. 

Wi' pinch I put a Sunday's face on, "Na, na," quo' I, "J'ni lio foi ^k^ 

An' snoov'd awa' before the Session — Gelding's nae better than 'tis ca't, 

I made an open fair confession, I'd rather suffer for my faut, 

I scorn'd to lie ; A hearty flewit. 

An' syne Mess John, beyond expres- As sair owre hip as ye can draw'tf 
sion, Tho' I should rue it. 

Fell foul o' me. 

. - • . 1 1 ^^,A " Or gin ye like to end the bothei, 

A f urnicator-loun he call d me, r^^ pkase us a', I've just ae ithor. 

An said my fau t f rae bliss expell d ^^^^^ ^^^^ ^,^, ^,^,^ ^^^^ j forgather, 

1 /wi' .1 * 1 * ^^>A Whate'er betide it, 

I own d the tale was true he tell d me, pjj ^ ^^ ^,^ 1^^,,.,^ .^, thegithe., 
n ,, .LK^t what the mater?" An' let her guide it." 

Quo I, I fear unless ye geld me, ^ 

I'll ne'er be better." ^^^^ g.^^ ^j^j^ ^^^^^^^.^ t^,^^^ ^^^^ 

"Geld you 1 " quo' he, "and what- ava, 

fore no ? An' therefore, Tam, when that I 
If that your right hand, leg or toe, saw, 

Should <3ver prove your sp'ritual foe, I said, " Gude night," and cam awa. 

You shou'd remember And left the Session ; 

To cut it aff, an' w^hatfore no I saw they were resolved a' 

Your dearest member ? " On my oppression. 

EXTEMPORE LINES, 

ijr ANSWER TO A CARD FROM AN INTIMATE FRIEND OF BURNS, WISHINO lOU 
; TO SPEND AN HOUR AT A TAVERN. 

The King's most humble servant I, 

Can scarcely spare a minute ; 
But I'll be wi' ye by an' bye ; 

Or else the Deil's be in it. 



My bottle is my holy pool, 
That heals the wounds o' care an' dool. 
And pleasure is a wanton trout. 
An' ye drink it, ye'll find him out. 

LINES 

WRITTEN EXTEMPORE IN A LADY's POCKET-BOOK. [MISS KENNEDl 
SISTER-IN-LAW OF GAATN HAMILTON.] 

Grant me, indulgent Heav'n, that I may live 
To see the miscreants feel the pain they give ; 
Deal Freedom's sacred treasures free as air. 
Till slave and despot be but things w^hich were, 

THE HENPEGK'D HUSBAND. 

Ctjrs'd be the man, the poorest wretch in life. 
The crouching vassal to the tyrant wife ! 
Who has no will but by her liigh permission ; 
Who has not sixpence but in her possession ; 



LtNm 15^1 



Who must to her his dear friend's secrets tell ; 
Who dreads a curtain lecture worse than hell. 
Were such the wife had fallen to my part, 
I'd break her spirit, or I'd break her heart: 
I'd charm her with the magic of a switch, 
rd kiss her maids, and kick the perverse bitch. 



EPITAPH ON A HENPECK'D COUNTRY SQUIRE. 



As father Adam first was fool'd, 
A case that's still too common, 

Here lies a man a woman rul'd. 
The devil rul'd the woman. 



EPIGRAM ON SAID OCCASION. 

Death, had thou but spar'd his life Ev'n as he is, cauld in his graff. 
Whom we, this day, lament ! The swap we yet will do't ; 

We freely wad exchang'd the wife. Take thou the carlin's carcase aflj, 
And a' been weel content. Thou'se get the saul o' boot 

ANOTHER. 

One Queen Artemisia, as old stories tell, 
When depriv'd of her husband she loved so well, 
In respect for the love and affection he'd show'd her. 
She reduced him to dust and she drank up the powder 

But Queen Netherplace, of a diff'rent complexion, 
When call'd on to order the fun'ral direction. 
Would have eat her dead lord on a slender pretence, 
Not to ^.hovv her respect, but — to save the expense. 

VERSES 

T7RITTEN ON A WINDOW OF THE INN AT CARRON. 

We came na here to view your warks. But when we tirl'd at your door, 

In hopes to be mair wise, Your porter dought na hear us ; 

But only, lest we gang to hell, Sae may,shou'd we to hell's yetts come, 

It may be nae surprise. Your billy Satan sair us 1 

LINES 

ON BEING ASKED WHY GOD HAD MADE MISS DAVIES SO LITTLE 
AND MRS. * * * SO LARGE, 

Written on a Pane of Glass in the Inn at Moffat. 

Ask why God made th.c gem so small, 

An' why so huge the granite ? 
Because God meant mankind should set 

That higher value on it. 



172 ON THE SEAT OF LORD GALLOWAY. 



EPIGRAM 

WRITTEN AT INVBRART, 

Whoe'er he be that sojourns here. There's naething here but Highland 

I pit}^ much his case, pride, 

Unlesshe come to wait upon And Higiihmd scab'and hunger ; 

The Lord their God, his Grace. If Providence has sent me here, 

'Twas surely in his anger. 

A TOAST 

GIVEN AT A MEETING OP THE DUMPRRIES-SHIRB VOLUNTEERS, HELD TO COMMEMORATB 
THE ANNIVERSARY CF RODNEY'S VICTORY, APRIL 12tH, 1782. 

Instead of a song, boys, I'll give you a Toast, — 
Here's the memory of those on the twelfth that we lost : 
That we lost, did I say ? nay, by heav'n, that we found. 
For their fame it shall last Avhile the world goes round. 
The next in succession, I'll give you the King, 
Who'er would betray him, on high may he swing I 
And here's the grand fabric, our free Constitution, 
As built on the base of the great Revolution ; 
And longer with Politics, not to be cramm'd, 
Be Anarchy curs'd, and Tyranny damn'd ; 
And who would to Liberty e'er prove disloyal, 
May his son be a hangman, and he the first trial ! 

LINES 

8AID TO HAVE BEEN WRITTEN BY BURNS, WHILE ON HIS DEATH-BED, TO JOHN RANKINI, 
AYRSHIRE, AND FORAVARDED TO HIM IMMEDIATELY AFTER THE POET'S DECEASE. 

He who of Rankine sang, lies stiff and dead ; 
And a green grassy hillock hides his head ; 
Alas ! alas ! a devilish change indeed ! 

VERSES ADDRESSED TO J. RANKINE, 

ON HIS WRITING TO THE POET THAT A GIRL IN THAT PART OP THE COUNTRY 
WAS WITH CHILD TO HIM. * 

il AM a keeper of the law I hae been found in f or't ance or twice^ 

'in some sma' points, altho' not a' ; And winna say owre far for thrice. 

Some people tell we gin I fa', Yet never met with that surprise 

One way or ither, That broke my rest. 

The breaking of ae point, tlio' sma', But now a rumour's like to rise, 

Breaks a' thegither. A whaup's i' the nest. 

ON SEEING THE BEAUTIFUL SEAT OF LORD 
GALLOWAY. 

What dost thou in that mansion fair ? 

Flit, Galloway, and find 
Some narrow, dirty, dungeon cave. 

The picture of thy mind. 



VEBSES TO J, BANKINE. l73 

ON THE SAME. 

No Stewart art thou, Galloway, 

The Stewarts all were brave ; 
Besides the Stewarts were but fools 

Not one of them a knave. 

ON THE SAME. 

Bright ran thy line, O Galloway, 
Thro' many a far-famed sire ! 
So ran the far-fam'ed Roman way. 
So ended in a mire ! I 

TO THE SAME, 
ON THB AUTHOR BEING THREATENED WITH HIS RESENTMENT. 

Spare me thy vengeance, Galloway, 

In quiet let me live : 
I ask no kindness at thy hand. 

For thou hast none to give. 

VERSES TO J. RANKINE. 

Ae day, as Death, that gruesome carl, "By God I'll not be seen behint 

Was driving to the tither warF them, 

A mixtie-maxtie motley squad. Nor 'mang the sp'ritual core present 

And monie a guilt-bespotted lad ; them, 

Black gowns of each denomination. Without at least, ae honest man, 

And thieves of every rank and station. To grace this damn'd infernal clan." 

From him that wears the star and By Adamhill a glance he threw, 

garter, " Lord God !" quoth he, " I have it 
To him that wintles in a halter ; now, 

Asham'd himsel to see the wretches. There's just the man I want, i' faith," 

He mutters, glowrin at the bitches, And quickly stoppit liankine's breath. 

EXTEMPORANEOUS EFFUSION, 

ON BEING APPOINTED TO THE EXCISE. 

Searching auld wives' barrels, 

Och, hon ! the day ! 
That clarty barm should stain my laurels : 

But — what'll ye say ? 
These movin' things, ca'd wives and weans. 
Wad move the very heart's o' stanes ! 

ON HEARING THERE WAS FALSEHOOD IN THE REV. 
DR. B 'S VERY LOOKS. 

That there is falsehood in his looks, 

I must and will deny ; - 
They say thei]' master is a knav®- 

And sure they do not }i§, 



174 LINES. 



POVERTY 



In politics if thou wouldst mix. 
And mean thy fortunes be ; 

Bear this in mind, — be deaf and blind. 
Let great folks hear and see. 



ON A SCHOOLMASTER. 

IN CLEISH PARISH, FIFESHIRE. 

Here lie Willie Michie's banes ; 

O Satan, when ye tak him, 
Gic him the schoolin' of your weans, 

For clever deils he'll mak them I 



LINES 

VRrrTEN AND PRESENTED TO MRS. KEMBLE, ON SEEING HER IN THE CHARACTBR 
OF YARICO IN THE DUMFRIES THEATRE, 1794. 



Kemble, thou cur'st my unbelief 

Of Moses and his rod ; 
At Yarico's sweet notes of grief 

The rock with tears had flow'd 



LINES. 



I MURDER hate by field or flood, The deities that I adore 

Tho' glory's name may screen us ; Are social Peace and Plenty, 

In wars at hame I'll spend my blood, I'm better pleased to make one more, 

Life-giving war of Venus. Than be the death of twenty. 



LINES 

WBITTEN ON A WINDOW, AT THE KING'S ARMS TAVERN, DUMFRIilS. 

Ye men of wit and wealth, wiiy all this sneering 
'Gainst poor Excisemen ? give the cause a hearing ; 
What are your landlords' rent-rolls ? taxing ledgers: 
What premiers, wiiat ? even Monarchs' mighty gangers : 
Nay, w^hat are priests, those seeming godly wise men ? 
What are they, pray, but spiritual Excisemen ? 

LINES 

WRITTEN ON THE WINDOW OF THE GLOBE TAVERN, DUMFRIES. 

The gray beard. Old Wisdom, may boast of his treasures. 

Give me with gay Folly to live : 
I grant him his calm-blooded, time-eettled pleasure^, 

But Folly has raptures to give. 



EPIQ RAM ON ELPHIN8T0NE. 1 75 

EXTEMPORE IN THE COURT OF SESSION. 

Tune—" Killiecrankie." 
LORD ADVOCATE. MR. ERSKENE. 

He clench'd his pamphlets in his fist, Collected Harry stood awee, 

He quoted and he hinted, Then open'd out his arm, man ; 

Till in a declamation-mist, His lordship sat wi' ruefu' e'e. 

His argument he tint it : And ey'd the gathering storm. 

He gaped for't, he graped for't, man : 

He fand it was awa, man ; Like wind-driv'n hail it did assail; 

But what his common sense came Or torrents owre a linn, man ; 

short. The Bench sae wise, lift up their eyes, 

He eked out wi' law, man. Half-wauken'd wi' the din, man. 



LINES 

WRITTEN UNDER THE PICTURE OP MISS BURNS. 

Cease, ye prudes, your envious railing. 
Lovely Burns has charms— confess : 

True it is, she had one failing. 
Had a woman ever less ? 



ON MISS J. SCOTT, OF AYR. 

Oh ! had each Scot of ancient times 
Been, Jeauie Scott, as thou art. 
The bravest heart on English ground 
Had yielded like a coward. 



EPIGRAM ON CAPTAIN FRANCIS GROSE, 

THE CELEBRATED ANTIQUARY. 

The Devil got notice that Grose was a-dying. 

So whip ! at the summons, old Satan came flying ; 

But when he approach'd where poor Francis lay moaning. 

And saw each bed-post with its burden a-groaning, 

Astonish'd ! confounded! cry'd Satan, '*By God, 

I'll want 'im, ere I take such a damnable load." 



EPIGRAM ON ELPHINSTONE S TRANSLATION OP 

MARTIAL'S EPIGRAMS. 

O THOU whom Poetry abhors. 
Whom Prose had turned out of doors, 
Heard'st thou yon groan ? — proceed no further^ 
'Twa^ laurel'd Martial calling murther, 



176 EPITAPH FOR QA VIN HAMILTON, ESQ, 

EPITAPH ON A COUNTRY LAIRD, 

NOT QUITE SO WISE AS SOLOMON. 

Bless Jesus Christ, O Cardoness, 

With grateful lifted eyes, 
Who said that not the soul alone. 

But body too, must rise : 
For had he said, " The soul alont 

From death I will deliver," 
Alas, alas ! O Cardoness, 

Then thou hadst slept for ever I 

EPITAPH ON A NOISY POLEMIC. 

Below thir stanes lie Jamie's banes: 

O Death, it's my opinion, 
Thou ne'er took such a bleth'rin' bitch 

Into thy dark dominion I 

EPITAPH ON WEE JOHNNY. 

Ilicjacet wee Johnny. 

Whoe'ek thou art, O reader, know 
That death has murder'd Johnnie ! 

An' here his body lies f u' low — 
For saul he ne'er had ony. 

EPITAPH ON A CELEBRATED RULING ELDER, 

Here souter Hood in Death does sleep :, 

To Hell, if he's gane thither, 
Satan, gie him th}" gear to keep. 

He'll baud it weel thegither. 



EPITAPH FOR ROBERT AIKEN, ESQ. 

Know thou, O stranger to the fame 
Of this much lov'd, much honour'd name, 
(For none that knew him need be told) 
A warmer heart death ne'er made cold. 



EPITAPH FOR GAVIN HAMILTON, ESQ. 

The Poor man weeps — here Gavin sleeps. 
Whom canting wretches blam'd : 

But with such as he, where'er he be, 
Jflay I be sav'd or damn'd 1 



EPITAPH ON JOHN BU8HB7, 



177 



A BARD'S EPITAPH. 



IS there a whim-inspired fool, 

Owre fast for thought, owre hot for 

rule, 
Owre blate to seek, owre proud to 
snool, 

Let him draw near ; 
And owre this grassy heap sing dool, 
And drap a tear. 

Is there a Bard of rustic song, 

Who, noteless, steals the crowds 

among, 
That weekly this area throng, 

O, pass not by ! 
But, with a frater-feeling strong, 

Here, heave a sigh. 

Is there a man whose judgment clear, 
Can others teach the course to steer. 



Yet runs, himself, life's mad career. 
Wild as the wave ; 

Here pause — and, thro' the starting 
tear. 

Survey this grave. 

The poor Inhabitant below 

Was quick to learn and wise to knoWj 

And keenly felt the friendly glow, 

And softer flame, 
But thoughtless follies laid him low, 

And stain'd his name ! 

Reader, attend — whether thy soul 
Soars fancy's flights beyond the pole. 
Or darkling grubs this earthly hole. 

In low pursuit ; 
Know, prudent, cautious self-control 

Is wisdoms root. 



EPITAPH ON MY FATHER. 

O YE, whose cheek the tear of pity stains, 
Draw near with pious rev'rence and attend I 

Here lie the loving husband's dear remains, 
The tender father, and the gen'rous friend. 

Tlie pitying heart that felt for human woe ; 

The dauntless heart that fear'd no human pride : 
The friend of man, to vice alone a foe ; 
** For ev'n his failings lean'd to virtue's side." 



EPITAPH 01^ JOHN DOVE, 

INNKEEPER, MAUCHLINE, 



Here lies Johnny Pidgeon ; 

What was his religion ? 

Wlia e'er desires to ken, 

To some other warl' 

]\Iaun follow the earl, 

For here Johnny Pidgeon had nane ! 



Strong ale w^as ablution, — 
Small beer persecution, 
A dram w^as memento mori ; 
But a full flowing bowl 
Was the saving his soul, 
And port was celestial glory. 



EPITAPH ON JOHN BUSHBY, 

■WRITER, IN DUMFRIES. 

Here lies John Bushby, honest man I 
Qh£2i ium, DeyiJ, if jou cajj. 



178 01^ COMMISSARY GOLDIE'8 BRAINS. 



EPITAPH ON A WAG IN MAUCHLINE. 

Lament him, Mauchline husbands a', Ye Maiichline bairns, as on ye pass 

He aften did assist ye ; To school in bands thegither, 

For had ye staid whole weeks awa, O tread ye lightly on his grass, 

Your wives they ne'er had miss'd ye. Perhaps he was your father. 



EPITAPH ON A PERSON NICKNAMED "THE MAR 

QUIS," 

WHO DESIRED BURNS TO WRITE ONE ON HIM. 

Here lies a mock INIarquis whose titles were shamm'd, 
If ever he rise, it will be to be damn'd. 



EPITAPH ON WALTER R [RIDDEL]. 

Sic a reptile was Wat, 
Sic a miscreant slave 
That the worms ev'n damn'd him 
When laid in his grave. 
" In his flesh there's a famine," 

A starv'd reptile cries ; 
" An' his heart is rank poison," 
Another replies. 



ON HIMSELF. 

Here comes Burns 

On Rosin ante ; 
She's d poor. 

But he's d canty I 



GRACE BEFORE MEAT. 

O Lord, when hunger pinches sore. 

Do thou stand us in need. 
And send us from thy bounteous store, 

A tup or wether head ! Amen. 



ON CO^IMISSARY^ GOLDIE S BRAINS, 

Lord, to account who dares thee call, 

Or e'er dispute th}^ pleasure ? 
Else why within so thick a wall 

Enclose so poor a treasure ? 



ON MR. M'MURDO, 179 

IMPROMPTU 

OK AN INNKEEPER NAMED BACON WHO INTRUDED HIMSELF INTO ALL COMPANIBS. 

At Brownhill we always get dainty good cheer, 
And plenty of bacon each day in the year ; 
We've all things that's nice, and mostly in season, 
Bat why always Bacon — come, give me a reason ? 

ADDRESSED TO A LADY 

WHOM THE AUTHOR FEARED HE HAD OFFENDED. 

Rusticity's ungainly form Propriety's cold cautious rules 
May cloud the highest mind ; Warm fervour may o'erlook ; 

But when the heart is nobly warm. But spare poor sensibility 
The good excuse will find. The ungentle, harsh rebuke. 

EPIGRAM. 

When , deceased, to the devil went down, 

'Twas nothing would serve him but Satan's own crown ; 

" Thy fool's head," quoth Satan, *' that crown shall wear never, 

I grant thou'rt as wicked, but not quite so clever." 

LINES INSCRIBED ON A PLATTER. 

My blessing on ye, honest wife. Heaven keep you clear of sturt ana 

■ I ne'er was here before : strife, 

Ye've wealth o' gear for spoon and Till far ayont four score, 

knife — And by the' Lord o' death and life^ 

Heart could not wish for more. I'll ne'er gae by your door 1 

TO . 



Your billet, sir, I grant receipt ; 

Wi' you I'll canter ony gate, 

Though 'twere a trip to yon blue warl*, 
Whare birkies march on burning marl : 
Then, sir, God willing, I'll attend ye. 
And to his goodness I commend ye. 

R. Burns. 



ON MR. M^MURDO. 

Blest be M'Murdo to his latest day. 
No envious cloud 'o'ercast his evening ray 
No wrinkle furrow'd by the hand of care. 
Nor even sorrow add one silver hair ! 
Oh, may no sou the father's honour stain, 
Nor ever daughter give the mother pain. 



180 



ON MR. W. CRUIKSHANE. 



TO A LADY 

WHO WAS LOOKIxNG UP THE TEXT DURING SERMON. 

Fair maid, you need not take the hint. 

Nor idle texts pursue : 
'Twas guilty sinners that he meant — 

Not angels such as j^ou ! 

IMPROMPTU. 

How daur ye ca' me howlet-faced. 
Ye ui^ly, glowering spectre ? 

My face was but the keekin' glass, 
jind there ye saw your picture. 



TO MR. MACKENZIE, SURGEON, MAUCHLINE. 

For me I would be mair than proud 
To share the mercies wi' you. 
If Death, then, wi' skultli, then, 
Some mortal licart is hechtin'. 
Inform him, and storm him. 
That Saturday you'll fetclit him. 

Robert Burns. 
Mossgiel, An. M. 5790, 



Friday first's the day appointed 
By the Kight AVorshipful anointed, 

To hold our grand procession ; 
To get a blad o' Johnie's morals. 
And taste a swatch o' Hanson's barrels 

I' the way of our profession. 

The Master and the Brotherhood 
Would a' be glad to see you ; 



TO A PAINTER. 



Dear , I'll gie ye some advice 

You'll tak it no uncivil : 
Yov shouldna paint at angels mair, 

But try and paint the devil. 



To paint an angel's kittle wark, 
Wi' auld Nick there's less danger ; 

You'll easy draw a weel-kent face. 
But no sae weel a stranger. 



LINES WRITTEN ON A TUMBLER. 



You're welcome, Willie Stewart ; 

You're welcome, Willie Stewart ; 
There's ne'er a flower that blooms in 
May, 

That's half sae welcome's thou art. 

Come, bumpers high, express your joy, 
The bowl we maun renew it ; 



The tappit-hen, gae bring her ben, 
To welcome Willie Stewart, 

May foes be Strang, and friends be 
slack, 

Ilk action may he rue it ; 
May woman on him turn her back, 

That wrangs thee, WilHe Stewart .' 



ON MR. W. CRUIKSHANK 

OF THE HIGH SCHOOL, EDINBURGH. 

Honest Will to heaven is gane, 
And mony shall lament him ; 

His faults they a' in Latin lay, 
In English nane e'er kent tli§ni^ 



SONGS. 



THE LASS O' BALLOCHMYLE. 

Tune—" Miss Forbes's Farewell to Banff, or Ettrick Banks. 



'TwAS even — the dewy fields were 
green, 

On every blade the pearls do hang ; 
The Zephyrs wanton'd round the 
bean. 

And bore its fragrant sweets alang : 
In every glen the Mavis sang, 

All nature listening seem'd the while: 
Except where green-wood echoes rang, 

Amang the braes o' Ballochmyle. 

With careless step I onward stray'd. 

My heart rejoic'd in nature's joy. 
When musing in a lonely glade, 

A maiden fair I chanc'd to spy ; 
Her look was like the morning's 
eye. 

Her hair like nature's vernal smile, 
Perfection whisper'd passing by. 

Behold the lass o' Ballochmyle 1 

Fair is the morn in flowery May, 
And sweet is night in Autumn mild, 

When roving thro' the garden gay. 
Or wandering in a lonely wild : 



But Woman, Nature's darling child I 
There all her charms she does com,, 
pile ; 

Ev'n there her other works are foil'd 
By the bonie lass o' Ballochmyle. 

O, had she been a country maid. 

And I the happy country swain, 
Tho' shelter'd in the lowest shed 

That ever rose on Scotland's plain 1 
Thro' weary winter's wind and rain. 

With joy, with rapture, I would toil; 
And nightly to my bosom strain 

The bonie lass o' Ballochmyle. 

Then pride m.ight dimb the slipp'ry 
steep. 
Where fame and honours lofty 
shine ; 
And thirst of gold might tempt the 
deep,' 
Or downward seek the Indian mine ; 
Give me the cot below the pine. 

To tend the flocks or till the soil, 
And every day have joys divine, 
With the bonie lass o' Ballochmyle. 



I SOISTG OF DEATH. 

j A GAELIC AIR. 

Scene.— A field of battle. Time of the day -Evening. The wounded aud dying of the 
victorious army are supposed to join in the song. 

Farewell, thou fair day, thou green earth, and ye skies. 

Now gay with the broad setting sun ! 
Farewell, loves and friendships, ye dear, tender ties. 

Our race of existence is run ! 

Thou grim King of Terrors, thou life's gloomy foe. 

Go, frighten the coward and slave ! 
Go, teach them to tremble, fell Tyrant I but know, 

No terrors hast thou for the brave 1 

181 



182 A ULD ROB MORRIS. 

Thou strik'st the dull peasant— he sinks in the dark. 

Nor saves e'en the wreck of a name : 
Thou strik'st the young hero— a glorious mark ! 

He falls in the blaze of his fame ! 

In the field of proud honour— our swords in our hands, 

Our King and our Country to save — 
While victory shines on life's last ebbing sands, 

O 1 who would not die with the brave ! 



MY AIN KIKD DEARIE O. 

When o'er the hill the eastern star Altho' the night were ne'er sae wild, 

Tells bughtin-time is near, my jo ; And I were ne'er sae wearie O, 

And owsen frae the f urrow'd field I'd meet thee on the lea-rig, 

Return sae dowf and wearie O ; My ain kind dearie O. 

Down by the burn, where scented birks ^, , , , , 

Wi' dew are hanging clear, my io, The hunter lo es the morning sun, ^ 

ril meet thee on the lea-rig, , To rouse the mountaui deer my jo g 

My ain kind dearie O. ^t noon the fisher seeks the glen. 

Along the burn to steer, my jo ; 

In mirkest glen, at midnight hour, Gie me the hour o' gloamin gray, 

I'd rove, and ne'er be eerie O, It maks my heart sae cheery O 

If thro' that glen I gaed to thee. To meet thee on the lea-rig. 

My ain kind dearie O. My ain kind dearie O. 



AULD ROB MORRIS. 

There's auld Rob Morris that wons in yon glen, 
He's the king o' gude fellows and wale of auld men ; 
He has gowd in iiis colfers, he has owsen and kine. 
And ae bonie lassie, his darling and mine. 

She's fresh as the morning, the fairest in May ; 
She's sweet as tlie ev'ning amang the new hay ; 
As blythe and as artless as the lamb on the lea, 
And dear to my heart as the light to my ee. 

But oh ! she's an heiress, auld Robin's a laird, 

And my daddie has nought but a cot-house and yard ^ 

A wooer like me maunna hope to come speed, 

The wounds I must hide that will soon be my dead. 

The day comes to me, but delight brings me nane ; 
The night comes to me, but my rest it is gane : 
I wander my lane, like a night-troubled ghaist, 
And I sigh as my heart it wad burst in my breast. 

Oh had she but been of a lower degree, 
I then might hac hop'd she wad smil'd upon me ; 
O how past dcsciiving had then been my my blisa, 
As now my distraction no words can express I 



dunoan ghat. 



\m 



KAEBODY. 

I HAE a wife o' my ain, 

I'll partake v/i' naebody ; 
I'll tak cuckold frae nane, 

I'll gie cuckold to naebody. 

I liae a penny to spend. 
There — thanks to naebody ; 

I hae nothing to lend, 
I'll borrow frae naebody. 

I am naebody 's lord, 

I'll be slave to naebody ; 
I hae a guid braid sword, 

I'll tak dunts frae naebody. 

I'll be merry and free, 

I'll be sad for naebody : 
If naebody care for me, 

I'll care for naebody. 

MY WIFE'S A WINSOME 

WEE THING. 

She is a winsome wee thing, 
She is a handsome wee thing. 
She is a bonie wee thing. 
This sweet wee wife o' mine 

I never saw a fairer, 

I never lo'ed a dearer, 

And neist my heart I'll wear her, 

For fear my jewel tine. 

She is a winsome wee thing, 
She is a handsome wee thing, 
She is a bonie wee thing, 
This sweet wee wife o' mine. 

The warld's wrack, we share o't. 
The warstle and the care o't ; 
Wi' her I'll blytliely bear it. 
And think my lot divine. 

DUNCAN GRAY. 

Duncan Gray came here to woo. 

Ha, ha the wooing o't. 
On blytlie yule night when we were 
fou, 

Ha, ha, tlie wooing o't. 
Maggie coost her head fu high, 
Look'd asklent and unco skeigh, 
Gart poor Duncan stand abeigh ; 
Ha, ha. the wooing o't. 



Duncan fleech'd, and Duncan pray'd ; 
Ha, ha, &c. 

Meg was deaf as Ailsa Craig, 

Ha, ha, &c. 
Duncan sigh'd baith out and in, 
Grat his ecn baitli bleer't and bl'm 
Spak o' lowpin o er a linn ; 

Ha, ha, &c. 

Time and chance are but a tide. 

Ha, ha, ttc. 
Slighted love is sair to bide, 

Ha, ha, &c. 
Shall I, like a fool, quoth he, 
For a haughty hizzie die ? 
She may gae to — France for me ! 

Ha, ha, &c. 

How it comes let doctors tell. 

Ha, ha, &c. 
Meg grew sick — as he grew well, 

Ha, ha, &c. 
Something in her bosom wrings, 
For relief a sigh she brings ; 
And O, her ecu, they spak sic things \ 

Ha, ha, &c. 

Duncan was a lad o' grace. 

Ha, ha, &c, 
Maggie's was a piteous case, 

Ha, ha, &c. 
Duncan couldna be her deat^ 
Swelling pity smoor'd his wrafn ; 
Now they're crouse and cantie baith ! 

Ha, ha, the wooing o't 



O POORTITH. 

TUNE—" I had a liorse." 

O POOKTiTH cauld, and restless love, 
Ye wreck my peace between ye ; 
Yet poortith a' I could forgive. 
An' 'twerena for my Jeanie. 
O why should fate sic pleasure 
have, 
Life's dearest bands untwining ? 
Or why sae sweet a flower as love 
Depend on Fortune's shining ? 

This warld's wealth when I think on, 
It's pride, and a' the lave o't ; 

Fie, fie on silly coward man. 
That he should be the slave o't. 
why, &c. 



184 



OPEN THE DOOR TO ME, OH. 



Her een sae bonie blue betray 
How she repays my passion ; 

But prudence is her o'erworcl aye, 
She talks of rank and fasliion. 
O why, &c. 

O wha can prudence think upon, 

And sic a lassie by him ? 
O wha can prudence think upon. 

And sae in love as I am ? 
O why, &c. 

How blest the humble cotter's fate ! 

He woos his simple dearie ; 
The silly bogles, wealth and state. 
Can never make them eerie. 
O why should fate sic pleasure 
have. 
Life's dearest bands untwining? 
Or why sae sweet a flower as love 
Depend on Fortune's shining ? 



GALLA WATER. 

There's braw braw lads on Yarrow 
braes, 
That wander thro' the blooming 
heather ; 
But Yarrow braes nor Ettick shaws 
Can match the lads o' Galla Water. 

But there is ane, a secret ane, 
Aboon them a' I lo'e him better ; 

And I'll be his, and he'll be mine, 
The bonie lad o' Galla Water. 

Altho' his daddie was nae laird. 
And tho' I hae nae meikle tocher-, 

Yet rich in kindest, truest love. 
We'll tent our flocks by Galla Water. 



It ne'er was wealth, it ne'er was wealtlv 
That coft contentment, peace ot 
pleasure ; 
The bands and bliss o' mutual love, 
O that's the chiefest warld's treas- 
ure ! 



LORD GREGORY. 

O MIRK, mirk is this midnight hour. 
And loud the tempest's roar ; 

A waefu' wanderer seeks thy tow'r. 
Lord Gregory, ope th}^ door. 

An exile, frae her father's ha'. 

And a' for loving thee ; 
At least some pity on me shaw, 

If love it mayua be. 

Lord Gregory, mind'st thou not the 
grove. 

By bonie Irwine side, 
Where first I owned that virgin-love, 

I lang, lang had denied ? 

How aften didst thou pledge and vow. 
Thou wad for aye be mine ! 

And my fond heart, itsel' sae true. 
It ne'er mistrusted thine. 

Hard is thy heart. Lord Gregory, 

And flinty is thy breast ; 
Thou dart of heaven that flashest by, 

O wilt thou give me rest ! 

Ye mustering thunders from above, 

Your willing victim see ! 
But spare, and pardon my fause love, 

His wrangs to heaven and me 1 



OPEN THE DOOR TO ME, OH ! 

WITH ALTERATIONS. 

Oh, open the door, some pity to shew, 

O, open the door to me. Oh ! 
Tho' thou hast been false, I'll ever prove true. 

Oh, open the door to me, Oh ! 

Cauld is the blast upon my pale cheek. 
But caulder thy love for me, Oh 1 

The frost that freezes the life at my heart. 
Is nought to my pains frae thee. Oh I 



JESSIE. 185 

The wan moon is setting behind the white wave. 

And time is setting with me, Oh ! 
False friends, false love, farewell ! for mair 

I'll ne'er trouble them, nor thee. Oh ! 

She has opened the door, she has opened it wide ; 

She sees his pale corse on the plain. Oh ! 
My true love, she cried, and sank down by his side, 

Never to rise again, Oh ! 



MEG O' THE MILL. 

Air—" 0. bonie Lass, will you lie in a Barrack." 

O KEN you what Meg o' the Mill has gotten 
An' ken you what Meg o' the Mill has gotten ? 
She has gotten a coof wi' a claut o' siller. 
And broken the heart o' the barley Miller. 

The Miller was strappin, the Miller was ruddy •, 
A heart like a lord, and a hue like a lady ; 
The Laird was a widdiefu', bleerit knurl ; 
She's left the guid fellow and ta'en the churl. 

The Miller he hecht her a heart leal and loving •, 
The Laird did address her wi' matter mair movingj 
A fine pacing horse wi' a clear chained bridle, 
A whip by her side, and a bonie side-saddle. 

O wae on the siller, it is sae prevailing ; 
And wae on the love that is fix'd on a mailen I 
A tocher's nae word in a true lover's parle. 
But, gie me my love, and a fig for the warl 1 



JESSIE. 

Tune— '•■ Bonie Dundee." 

TRUE-hearted was he, the sad swain o* the Yarrow, 

And fair are the maids on the banks o' the Ayr, 
But by the sweet side o' the Nith's winding river. 

Are lovers as faithful, and maidens as fair : 
To equal young Jessie seek Scotland all over ; 

To equal young Jessie you seek it in vain ; 
Grace, beauty, and elegance, fetter her lover. 

And maidenly modesty fixes the chain. 

O, fresh is the rose in the gay, dewy morning. 

And sweet is the lily at evening close ; 
But in the fair presence o' lovely young Jessie, 

Unseen is llie lily, unheeded the rose. 
Love sits in her smile, a wizard ensnaring ; 

Enthron'd in her een he delivers his law : 
And still to her charms she alone is a stranger ! 

Her modest demeanour's the jewel of a'. 



186 



THEBE WAS A LASS. 



WANDERING WILLIE. 

Here awa, there awa, wandering Willie, 
Here awa, there awa, hand awa, hame ; 

Come to ni}' bosom, my ain only dearie, 

Tell me thou bringst me my Willie the same. 

Winter winds blew loud and cauld at our parting, 
Fears for my Willie brought tears in my ee ; 

Welcome now simmer, and welcome my Willie, 
The simmer to nature, my Willie to me ! 

Rest, ye wild storms, in the cave of your slumbers 
How your dread howling a lover alarms ! 

Wauken" ye breezes, row gently, ye billows. 
And waft my dear laddie ance mair to my arms. 

But oh, if he's faithless, and minds nahis Nannie, 
Flow still between us, thou wide-roaring main ; 

May I never see it, may I never trow it. 
But, dying, believe that my Willie's my ain. 



LOGAN BRAES. 

Tune—" Logan Water." 

Logan, sweetly didst thou glide 
That day I was my Willie's bride ; 
And years sinsyne hae o'er us run. 
Like Logan to the simmer sun. 
But now the flow'ry banks appear 
Like drumlie winter, dark and drear, 
While my dear lad maun face his faes, 
Far, far frae me and Logan Braes, 

Again the merry month o" May 
Has made our hills and valleys gay ; 
The birds rejoice in leaf}' bowers. 
The bees hum round the breatning 

flowers ; 
Blithe morning lifts his rosy eye. 
And evening's tears are tears of joy : 
My soul, delightless, a' surveys. 
While Willie's far frae Logan Braes. 

Within yon milk-white hawthorn bush, 
Amang her nestlings, sits the thrush ; 
Her faithfu' mate will share her toil. 
Or wi' his song her cares beguile : 
But I wi' my sweet nurslings here, 
Nae mate to help, nae mate to cheer, 
Pass widow'd nights and joyless days. 
While Willie's far frae Logan Braes. 

wae upon you, men o' state, 
That brethren rouse to deadly hate ! 



As ye mak monie a fond heart mourn, 
Sae may it on your heads return ! 
How can your flinty hearts enjoy 
The widow's tears, the orphan's cr^ r 
But soon may peace bring happy days, 
And Willie hame to Logan Braes ! 



THERE WAS A LASS. 

Tune—" Bonie Jean." 

There was a lass, and she was fair, 
At kirk and market to be seen, 

When a' the fairest maids were met^ 
The fairest maid was bonie Jean. 

And ay she wrought her mammio«i 
wark. 

And ay she sang sae merrily ; 
The blythest bird upon the bush 

Had ne'er a lighter heart than she. 

But hawks will rob the tender joys 
That bless the little lintwhite's nest ; 

And frost will blight the fairest flowers, 
And love will break the soundest 
rest, 

Young Robie was the brawest lad. 
The flower and pride of a' the glen > 

And he had owsen, sheep and kye, 
And wanton naigies nine or tea. 



BY ALLAN STREAM. 



1^7 



He gaed wl' Jeanie to the tryste, 
He danc'd wi' Jeanie on tlie down ; 

And lang ere witless Jeanie wist, 
Her heart was tint, her peace was 
stown. 

As in the bosom o' the stream 

The moon-beam dwells at dewy 
e'en ; 

So trembling, pure, was tender love. 
Within the breast o' bonie Jean. 

And now she works her mammie's 
wark, 

And aye she sighs wi' care and pain ; 
Yet wistna what her ail might be. 

Or what wad make her weel again. 

But didna Jeanie's heart loup light, 
And didna joy blink in her ee, 

As Robie tauld a tale o' love, 
Ae e'enin on the lily lea ? 

The sun was sinking in the west. 
The birds sang sweet in ilka grove ; 

His cheek to hers he fondly prest, 
And whisperd thus his tale o' love : 

O Jeanie fair, I lo'e thee dear ; 

O canst thou think to fancy me ? 
Or wilt thou leave thy mammie's cot. 

And learn to tent the farms wi' me ? 

At barn or byre thou shaltna drudge. 
Or naething else to trouble thee ; 

But stray amang the heather-bells, 
And tent the waving corn wi' me. 

Now what could artless Jeanie do ? 

She had nae will to say him na : 
At length she blush'd a sweet consent. 

And love was ay between them twa. 



PHILLIS THE FAIR. 

Tune—" Robin Adair." 

While larks with little wing 

Fann'd the pure air. 
Tasting the breathing spring, 

Forth I did fare : 
Gay the sun's golden eye 
Peep'd o'er the mountains high ; 
Such thy morn ! did I cry, 

Phillis tlic fair. 

In eacli bird's careless song 
Glad did I share ; 



While yqn wild flowers among, 

Chance led me there : 
Sweet to the opening day. 
Rosebuds bent the dewy spray : 
Such thy bloom ! did I say, 

Phillis the fair. 

Down in a shady walk, 

Doves cooing were, 
I mark'd the cruel hawk 

Caught in a snare : 
So kind may Fortune be, 
Su3h make his destiny. 
He who would injure thee, 

Phillis the fair. 



BY ALLAN STREAM, 

Tune— "Allan Water." 

By Allan stream I chanc'd to rove, 
While Phoebus sank beyond Ben» 
leddi ; 
The winds were whispering thro' the 
grove, 
The yellow corn was waving ready : 
I listen'd to a lover's sang, 
And thought on youthfu' pleasures 
monie ; 
And ay the wildwood echoes rang — 
O, dearly do I love thee, Annie ! 

O, happy be the woodbine bower, 

Nae nightly bogle mak it eerie ; 
Nor ever sorrow stain the hour, 

The place and time I met my dearie 1 
Her head upon my throbbing breast, 

She, sinking, said " I'm thine for- 
ever ! " 
While monie a kiss the seal imprest. 

The sacred vow, we ne'er should 
sever. 

The haunt o' spring's the primrose 
brae, 
The simmer joys the flocks to fol- 
low ; 
How cheery thro' her shortening day 
Is autumn, in her weeds o' yellow ! 
But can they melt the glowing heart, 
Or chain the soul in speechless 
pleasure, 
Or, thro' each nerve the rapture dart, 
Like meeting her, our bosom's treas* 
ure ? 



188 HUSBAND, HUSBAND, CEASE TOUR STRIFE. 



HAD I A CAVE. 

Tune— "Robin Adair." 

Had I a cave on some wild, distant shore. 
Where the winds howl to the waves' dashing roar ; 
There would I weep my woes, 
There seek my last repose, 
I Till grief my eyes should close, 

Ne'er to wake more. 

Falsest of womankind, canst thou declare 
All thy fond plighted vows— fleeting as air ? 

To thy new lover hie, 

Laugh o'er thy perjury, 

Then in thy bosom try. 
What peace is there J 

WHISTLE, AND I'LL COME TO YOU, MY LABc 

Tune—" My Jo, Janet," 

O WHISTLE, and I'll come to you, my lad ; 
O whistle, and I'll come to you, my lad : 
Tho' father and mither and a' should gae mad, 
O whistle, and I'll come to you, my lad. 

But warily tent, when ye come to court me, 
And come na unless the black-yett be a-jec ; 
Syne up the back-stile, and let naebody see. 
And come as 3^e were na comin to me. 
And come, etc. 

O whistle, etc. 

At kirk, or at market, whene'er ye meet me. 
Gang by me as tho' that ye car'd na a flie : 
But steal me a blink o' your bonie black ee. 
Yet look as ye were na lookin at me. 
Yet look, etc. 

Ay vow and protest that ye care na for me. 
And whiles ye may lightly my beauty a wee ; 
But court na anither, tho' jokin ye be. 
For fear that she wyle your fancy f rae me. 
For fear, etc. 

O whistle, etc. 

HUSBAND, HUSBAND, ' * One of two must still obey, 

CEASE YOUR STRIFE. isS7n o'JwoLkn. say. 

Tune—" My Jo. Janet." My spouse, Nancy ? 

Husband, husband, cease your strife, If 'tis still the lordly word. 

Nor longer idly rave, sir ; Service and obedience ; 

Tho' I am your wedded wife, I'll desert my sov'reign lord. 

Yet I am not your slave, sir. And so good-bye allegiance I 



BANKS OF CBEE. 



189 



" Sad will I be, so bereft, 

Nancy, Nancy ! 
Yet I'll try to make a shift, 
My spouBe, Nancy." 

My poor heart then break it must, 
My last hour I'm near it : 

When you lay me in the dust. 
Think, think how you will bear it. 

" I will hope and trust in Heaven, 

Nancy, Nancy ; 
Strength to bear it will be given. 

My spouse, Nancy." 

Well, sir, from the silent dead 
■ Still I'll try to daunt you ; 

Ever round your midnight iDed 
Horrid sprites shall haunt you. 

" I'll wed another, like my dear 

Nancy, Nancy ; 
Then all hell will fly for fear, 

My spouse, Nancy. ' 



DELUDED SWAIK 

Tune—" The Collier's Dochter." 

Deluded swain, the pleasure 
The tickle Fair can give thee, 

Is but a fairy treasure. 
Thy hopes will soon deceive thee. 

The billows on the ocean 
The breezes idly roaming. 

The clouds' uncertain motion. 
They are but types of woman. 

O ! art thou not ashamed 

To doat upon a feature ? 
If man thou wouldst be named. 

Despise the silly creature. 

Go, find an honest fellow ; 

Good claret set before thee : 
Hold on till thou art mellow. 

And then to bed in glory. 



SOKG. 

Tune—" The Quaker's Wife. 

Thine am I, my faithful fair. 
Thine, my lovely Nancy ; 

"Ev'ry pulse along my veins, 
Ev'ry roving fancy. 



To thy bosom lay my heart. 
There to throb and languish : 

Tho' despair had wrung its core 
That would heal its anguish. 

Take away those rosy lips. 
Rich with balmy treasure ! 

Turn away thine eyes of love, 
Lest I die with pleasure ! 

What is life when wanting love : 
Night without a morning ! 

Love's the cloudless summer sun, 
Nature gay adorning. 



WILT THOU BE MY 
DEARIE ? 

A NEW SCOTS SONG. 

Tune-" The Sutor's Dochter." 

Wilt thou be my dearie ? 

When sorrow wrings thy gentle heart 

Wilt thou let me cheer thee ? 

By the treasure of my soul. 

That's the love I bear thee ! 

I swear and vow that only thou 

Shalt ever be my dearie — 

Only thou, I swear and vow, 

Shalt ever be my dearie. 

Lassie, say thou lo'es me ; 
Or if thou wilt na be my ain. 
Say na thou'lt refuse me : 
If it winna, canna be, 
Thou for thine may choose me. 
Let me, lassie, quickly die. 
Trusting that thou lo'es me — 
Lassie, let me quickly die. 
Trusting that thou lo'es me. 



BANKS OF CREE. 

Tune— " The Flowers of Edinburgh." 

Here is the glen, and here the bower. 
All underneath the birchen shade ; 

The village-bell has toli'd the hour, 
O what can stay my lovely maid ? 

'Tis not Maria's whispering call ; 

'Tis but the balmy breathing gale, 
Mixt with some warbler's dying fall, 

TJie dew^ star of eve to bail 



190 



HARK! THE MAVIS. 



It is Maria's voice I hear ! 

So calls the woodlark in the grove 
flis little faithful mate to cheer, 

At once 'tis music — and 'tis love. 

A.nd art thou come ? and art thou 
true ? 

O welcome, dear, to love and me ! 
And let us all our vows renew, 

Along the flow'ry banks of Croe. 



ON THE SEAS AND FAR 
AWAY. 

Tune—' O'er the Iliils and far away." 

IT w can my poor heart be glad, 
WJien absent from my Sailor Lad ? 
How can I the thought forego, 
lie's on the seas to meet the foe ? 
Let me wander, let me rove. 
Still my heart is with my love ; 
Nightly dreams and thoughts by day 
Are with him that s far away. 

cnoRus. 
On the seas and far away. 
On stormy seas and far away ; 
Nightly dreams and thoughts by day 
^ re aye with him that's far away. 

When in summer's noon I faint. 
As weary flocks around me pant, 
Haply in this scorching sun 
My Sailor's thund'ring at his gun : 
Bullets, spare my only joy ! 
Bullets, spare my darling boy ! 
Fate, do with me what you may, 
Spare but him that's far away ! 
On the seas, etc. 

At the starless midnight hour, 
AVlien winter rules with boundless 

power ; 
As the storms the forest tear, 
And thunders rend the howling air, 
Listening to the doubling roar, • 

Surging on the rocky shore. 
All I can — I weep and pray. 
For his weal that's far away. 

On the seas, etc. 

Peace, thy olive wand extend, 
And bid wild War his ravage end. 



Man with brother man to Pieet, 
And as a brother kindly greet ; 
Then may heaven with prosperous 

gales 
Fill my Sailor's welcome sails. 
To my arms their charge convey, 
My dear lad that's far away, 

On the seas, etc. 



HARK ! THE MAVIS. 

Tune—" Ca' the Yowes to the Knowes." 
* CHORUS. 

Ca' the yowes to the knowes, 
Ca' them where the heather grow*. 
Ca' them wdiere the burnie rows, 
My bonie dearie. 

Hark ! the mavis' evening sang 
Sounding Clouden's woods amang. 
Then a faulding let us gang, 
My bonie dearie. 
Ca' the, etc. 

"We'll gae down by Clouden side. 
Thro' the hazels spreading wide, 
O'er the waves that sweetly glide 
To the moon sae clearly. 
Ca' the, etc. 

Yonder Clouden's silent towers, 
AVhere at moonshine midnight hours, 
O'er the dewy -bending flowers, 
Faries dance sae cheery. 
Ca' the, etc. 

Ghaist nor bogle shalt thou fear ; 
Thou'rt to love and Heaven sae dear, 
Nocht of ill may come thee near, 
My bonie dearie. 
Ca' the, etc. 

Fair and lovely as thou art. 
Thou hast stown my very heart ; 
I can die — but canna part, 
My bonie dearie. 
Ca' the, etc. 

While waters wimple to the sea ; 
While day blinks in the lift sae hie ; 
Till clay-cauld death shall blin' my ee. 
Ye shall be my dearie. 
Ca' the, etc. 



THE LOVER'S MORNING SALUTE. 



19i 



SHE SAYS SHE LOE'S ME 
BEST OF A'. 

Tune—" Onagh's Water-fall." 

Sae flaxen were her ringlets, 

Her eyebrows of a darker hue, 
Bewitchingly o'erarching 

Twa laughing een o' bonie blue. 
Her smiling, sae wyling, 

Wad make a wretch forget his woe ; 
What pleasure, what treasure. 

Unto these rosy lips to grow ! 
Such was my Chloris' bonie face. 

When first her bonie face I saw, 
And aye my Chloris' dearest charm, 

She says she lo'es me best of a'. 

Like harmony her motion ; 

Her pretty ancle is a spy 
Betraying fair proportion. 

Wad make a saint forget the sky ; 
Sae warming, sae charming, 

Her faultless form and gracef u' air ; 
Ilk feature — auld Nature 

Declar'd that she could do nae 
mair : 
Hers are the willing chains o' love, 

By conquering beauty's sovereign 
law ; 
And aye my Chloris' dearest charm. 

She says she lo'es me best of a'. 

Let others love the city. 

And gaudy show at sunny noon ; 
Gie me the lonely valley, 

The dewy eve, and rising moon 
Fair beaming, and streaming 

Her silvery light the boughs amang ; 
While falling, recalling. 

The amorous thrush concludes his 
sang ; 
There, dearest Chloris, wilt thou rove 

By wimpling burn and leafy shaw. 
And hear my vows o' truth and love. 

And say thou lo'es me best of a' ? 

HOW LANG AND DREARY. 

Tune—" Cauld Kail in Aberdeen." 

How lang and dreary is the night. 
When I am f rae my dearie ; 

I restless lie frae e'en to morn,- 
Tho' I were ne'er sae weary. 



CHORUS. 

For oh, her lanely nights are lang ; 

And oh, her dreams are eerie ; 
And oh, her widow'd heart is sair^ 

That's absent frae her dearie. 

When I think on the lightsome days 
I spent wi' thee, my dearie, 

And now that seas between us roar, 
How can I be but eerie ! 
For oh, etc. 

How slow ye move, ye heavy hours ; 

The joyless day how drearie ! 
It wasna sae ye glinted by. 

When I was wi' my dearie. 
For oh, etc. 



THE LOVER'S MORNING 
SALUTE TO HIS MISTRESS. 

Tune—" Deil tak the Wars." 

Sleepest thou, or wak'st thou, fairest 
creature ; 
Rosy morn now lifts his eye, 

Numbering ilka bud which Nature 
Waters wi' the tears o' joy : 
Now thro' the leafy woods. 
And by the reeking floods. 

Wild Nature's tenants, freely, gladly 
stray ; 
The lintwhite in his bower 
Chants o'er the breathing flower ; 
The lav'rock to the sky 
Ascends wi' sangs o' joy, 

While the sun and thou arise to bless 
the day. 

Phoebus, gilding the brow o' morning. 
Banishes ilk darksome shade, 

Nature gladdening and adorning ; 
Such to me my lovely maid. 
When absent frae my fair. 
The murky shades o' care 

With starless gloom o'ercast my sullen 
sky; 
But when, in beauty's light. 
She meets my ravish'd sight. 
When thro' my very heart 
Her beaming glories dart — 

'Tis then I wake to life, to light, and 



1Q2 



CONTENTED WF LITTLE, 



LASSIE Wr THE LINT- 
WHITE LOCKS. 

Tune— " Rothiemurchus's Rant." 
CHORUS. 

Lassie wi' the lint-wliitc locks, 
Bonie lassie, artless lassie, 

Wilt thou wi' me tent the flocks ? 
Wilt thou be my dearie O ? 

Kow nature deeds the flowery lea, 
And a' is young and sweet like thee ; 
O wilt thou share its joys wi' me, 
And say thou'll be my dearie O ? 
Lassie wi', &c. 

And when the welcome simmer-shower 
Has cheer'd ilk drooping little flower, 
We'll to the breathing woodbine bower 
At sultry noon, my dearie O. 
Lassie wi', &c. 

When Cynthia lights, wi' silver ray. 
The wTary sJicarer's hamewaid way, 
Thro' yellow waving fields we'll stray. 
And talk o' love, my dearie O. 
Lassie wi', &c. 

And when the howling wintrj'^ blast 
Disturbs my lassie's midnight rest ; 
Enclasped to my faithf u' breast, 
I'll comfort thee, my dearie O. 
Lassie wi' the lint-white locks, 

Bonie lassie, artless lassie. 
Wilt thou wi' me tent the flocks ? 
Wilt thou be my dearie, O ? 



THE AULD MAN. 

Tune—" The Death of the Linnet." 
But lately seen in gladsome green 

The w^oods rejoic'd the day, 
Thro' gentle showers the laughing 
flowers 
In double pride were gay : 



But now our joys are fled, 

On winter blasts awa ! 
Yet maiden May, in rich array, 

Again shall bring them a'. 

But my white pow, nae kindly thowe 

Shall melt the snaws of age ; 
My trunk of eild, but buss or bield, 

Sinks in time's wintry rage. 
Oh, age has weary days, 

And nights o' sleepless ]iain ! 
Thou golden time o' youthful prime, 

Why com'st thou not again ? 

FAREWELL, THOU 
STREAM. 

Tune— "Nancy's to the Greenwood gane." 
Farewell, thou stream that winding 
flows " 
Around Eliza's dwelling ! 

Mem'ry ! spare the cruel throes 
Within my bosom swelling : 

Condemn'd to drag a hopeless chain, 
And yet in secret languish. 

To feel a fire in ev'ry vein. 
Nor dare disclose my anguisli. 

Love's veriest wretch, unseen, un- 
known, 
I fain my griefs would cover : 
The bursting sigh, tli' unweeting 
groan. 
Betray the hapless lover. 

1 know^ thou doom'st me to despair. 
Nor wilt nor canst relieve me ; 

But oh, Eliza, hear one prayer. 
For pity's sake forgive me .' 

The music of thy voice I heard. 

Nor wist while it enslav'd me ; 
I saw thine eyes, yet nothing fear'd, 

1 ill fears no more had saved me : 
Th' unwary sailor thus aghast. 

The wiieeling torrent viewing, 
'Mid circling horrors sinks at last 

In overwhelming ruin. 



CONTENTED WI' LITTLE. 

Tune—" Lumps o' pudding." 
Contented wi' little, and cantie wi' inair, 
Whene'er I forgather wi' sorrow and care, 
T gie them a skelp as they're creepin' alang, 
Wi' a cog o' i^ude swats, and an auld Scpttjsb san^. 



LASSIE, ART THOU SLEEPING TETf 



193 



I whyles claw the elbow o' troublesome thought ; 

But man is a soger, and life is a faught : 

My mirth and gude humour are coin in my pouch, 

And my freedom's my lairdship nae monarch dare toueko 

A towmond o' trouble, should that be my fa', 
A night o' gude fellowship sowthers it a' ; 
When at the blythe end of our journey at last, 
Wha the devil ever thinks o' the road he has past ? 

Blind Chance, let her snapper and stoyte on her waj, 
Be't to me, be't frae me, e'en let the jade gae : 
Come ease, or come travail ; come pleasure or pain. 
My warst word is—" Welcome, and welcome again I 

MY :n^annie's aw a. 

Tune—" There'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame." 
Kow in her green mantle blythe Nature arrays, 
And listens the lambkins that bleat o'er the braes. 
While birds warble Avelcomes in ilka green shaw ; 
But to me it's delightless— my Nannie's awa. 
The snaw-drop and primrose our woodlands adorn, 
And violets bathe in the weet o' the morn : 
They pain my sad bosom, sae sweetly they blaw, 
They mind ivie o' Nannie— my Nannie's awa. 

Thou laverock that springs frae the dews o' the lawn,' 
The shepherd lo warn o' the gray-breaking dawn, 
And thou, yellow mavis, that hails the night-fa', 
Gie over for pity— my Nannie's awa. 

Come autumn sae pensive, in yellow and gray. 
And soothe me wi' tidings o' nature's decay ; 
The dark, dreary winter, and wild-driving snaw, 
Alane can delight me— now Nannie's awa. 



SWEET FA'S THE EVE. 

Tune—" Craigieburn-wood." 

SwEEt fa's the eve on Craigie-burn, 
And b/ytlie awakes the morrow, 

But a' the pride o' spring's return 
Can yield me nocht but sorrow. 

I see tlie flowers and spreading trees, 
I hear the wild birds singing ; 

But what a weary wight can please. 
And care his bosom wringing ? 

Fain^ fain would I my griefs impart. 
Yet ^a-axQ nil for your anger ; 

But secret love will break my heart, 
If I Qonceal it langer, 



If thou refuse to pity me. 

If thou Shalt love auither; 
When yon green leaves fa.'f rae the tree, 

Around my grave they'll wither. 



O LASSIE, ART THOIT 
SLEEPING YET? 

TtJNE— " Let me in this ae night." 
O Lassie, art thou sleeping yet ? 
Or art thou wakin, I would wit ? 
For love has bound me hand and foot> 
An4 I would fain be in, -lio- 



1^4 



'TWAS NA HER BONIS BLUE EB. 



CHORUS. 

O let me in this ae night, 

This ae, ae, ae night ; 
For pity sake this ae night, 

O rise and let me in, jo. 

Thou hear'st, the winter wind and weet, 
Nae star' bliul^s thro' the driving sleet ; 
Tak pity on my weary feet. 
And sliic'ld me frae the rain, jo. 
O let me in, &c. 

The bitter hhist that round me blaws. 
Unheeded howls, unheeded fa's ; 
The cauldness o' thy heart's the cause 
Of all my grief and pain, jo. 
O let me in, &c. 



HER ANSWER, 

O TEi.L na me o' wind and rain, 
Upbraid na me wi' cauld disdain 1 
Gae back the gait ye cam again, 
1 winna let you in, jo. 



CHORUS. 

I tell you now this ae night. 

This ae, ae, ae night ; 
And ance for a' this ae night, 

I winna let you in, jo. 

The snellest blast, at mirkest hours, 
That round the pathless waud'rci 

pours. 
Is nocht to what poor she endurea 
That's trusted faithless man, jo. 

I tell you now, &c. 

The sweetest flower that deck'd tho 

mead, 
Kow trodden like the vilest weed ; 
Let simple maid the lessen read. 
The weird may be her ain, jo. 

I tell you now, «&c. 

The bird that charm'd hi? summe»-day 
Is now the cruel fowler s prey ; 
Let witless, trusting womao Siiy 
How aft. her fate's the same, jc 
I tell you now, &c. 



SONG. 

TUNE—" Humours of Glen." 
Their groves o' sweet myrtles let foreign lands reckon. 

Where bright-beaming summers exalt the perfume ; 
Far dearer to me yon lone glen o' green brcck:iii, 

Wi' the burn stealing under the lang yellov.'-broom. 

Far dearer to me are yon humble broom bowers. 
Where the blue-bell and gowan lurk lowly unseen : 

For there, lightly tripping amang the wiid llowers, 
A listening the linnet, aft wanders my Jean. 

Thro' rich is the breeze in their gay sunny valleys, 

And cauld Caledonia's blast on the w^ave ; 
Their sweet-scented woodlands that skirt the proud palac; 

What are they ? The haunt of the tyrant and slave ! 

The slave's spicy forests, and gold-bubbling fountains, 

The brave Caledonian views wi' disdain ; 
He wanders as free as the winds of his mountains. 

Save love's willing fetters, the chains o' his Jean. 



'TWAS NA HER BONIE BLUE EE. 

Tune—" Laddie, lie near me." 
*TwAS na her bonie blue ee was my ruin : 
Fair tho' she be, that was ne'er my undoing ; 
*Twas the dear smile when naebody did mind us, 
'Twas the bewitcliing, sweet, stown gjaace p' kiadnesgr 



/ SEE A FORM, 1 SEE A FACE. 



195 



Sair do I fear that to hope is denied me, 
Sair do I fear that despair maun abide me ; 
But tho' fevl fortune should fate us to sever. 
Queen shall she be in my bosom for ever. 

Chloris, I'm thine wi' a passion sincerest, 
And thou hast plighted me love o' the dearest ! 
And thou'rt the angel that never can alter, 
Sooner the sun in his motion would falter. 



ADDRESS TO THE WOOD- 
LARK. 

Tune—" WhereMl bonie Ann lie." 
O STAY, sweet warbling woodlark, 

stay, 
Kor quit for me the trembling spray, 
A hapless lover courts thy lay. 
Thy soothing fond complaining. 

Again, again tiiat tender part. 
That I may catch thy melting art ; 
For surely that wad "touch her heart, 
Wha kills me wi' disdaining. 

Say, was thy little mate unkind. 
And heard thee as the careless wind'? 
Oh, nocht but love and sorrow join'd 
Sic notes o' wae could waukcn. 

Thou tells o' never-ending care ; 
O' speechless grief, and dark despair ; 
For pity's sake, sweet bird, nae mair ! 
Or my poor heart is broken ! 

HOW CRUEL ARE THE 
PARENTS. 

Tune— "John Andergon my Jo." 
How cruel arc the parents 

Who riches only prize. 
And to the wealthy booby 

Poor women sacrifice. 
Meanwhile the hapless daughter 

Has but a choice of strife. 
To shun a tyrant father's hate 

Become a wretched wife. 

The ravening hawk pursuing. 

The trembling dove thus flies, 
To shun impelling ruin 

A while her pinions tries ; 
Till of escape despairing, 

No shelter or retreat, 
She trusts tlie ruthless falconer, 

^d drops beaeath his feet. 



MARK YONDER POMR 

Tune—" Deil tak the Wars." 

Mark yonder pomp of costiy fash 
ion. 
Round the wealthy, titled bride : 
But when compar'd with real p;is 
siou. 
Poor is all that princely pride. 
What are their showy treasures ? 
What are their noisy pleasures ? 
The gay, gaudy glare of vanity and 
art : 
The polish'd jewel's blaze 
May draw the wond'ring gaze, 
And courtly grandeur bright 
The fancy may delight, 
But never, never can come near the 

heart. 
But did you see my dearest Chloris, 

In simplicity's array ; 
Lovely as yonder sweet opening 
flower is, 
Shrinking from the gaze of day. 
O then, the heart alarming, 
And all resistless charming, 
In love's delightful fetters she chains 
the willing soul ! 
Ambition would disown 
The world's imperial crown ; 
Even Avarice would deny 
His worshipp'd deity. 
And feel thro' every vein Love's rap- 
turous roll. 



I SEE A FORM, I SEE A 
FACE. 

Tune — " This is my ain house." 

O THIS is no my ain lassie, 

, Fair tho' the lassie be ; 

weel ken I my ain lassie, 

Kind iQve.is in h^r ee. 



1^)6 



LAST MAT A BRA W WOOER. 



\ see a form, i see a face, 
Ye weel may wi' the fairest place ; 
It wants, to me, the witching grace. 
The kind love that's in her ee, 
O this is no, &c, 

She's bonie, blooming, straight, and 

tall. 
And lang has had my heart in thrall ; 
And aye it charms my very saul. 
The kind love that's in her ee. 

O this is no, &c. 

A thief sae pawkie is my Jean, 
To steal a blink, by a' unseen ; 
But gleg as light are lovers' een, 
When kind love is in the ee. 
O this is no, &c. 

It may escape the courtly sparks, 
It may escape the learned clerks ; 
But weel the watching lover marks 
The kind love that's in her ee, 
O this is no, &c. 

O BONIE WAS YON ROSY 
BRIER. 

Tune—"' I wish my love was in a mire.' 
O BONIE was yon rosy brier. 

That blooms sae fair f rae haunt o' 
man : 
And bonie siie, and ah, how dear ! 

It shaded f rae the e'cning sun. 

Yon rosebuds in the morning dew, 
How pure amaug the leaves sae 
green ; 
But purer was the lover's vow 
They witne&s'd in their shade yes- 
treen. 



All in its rude and prickly bower, 
That crimson rose how sweet and 
fair ! 

But love is far a sweeter tiower 
ximid life's thorny path o' cure. 

The pathless wild, and v/impling burn, 
Wi' Chloris in my arms, be mine. 

And I, the world, nor wish, nor scorn, 
Its joys and griefs alike resigp. 

FORLORN, MY LOVE. 

Tune—" Let me in this ae night.'' 
Forlorn, my love, no comfort near. 
Far, far from thee, I wander here ; 
Far, far from thee, the fate severe 
At which I most repine, love. 

CHORUS, 

O wert thou, love, but near me. 
But near^ near, near me ; 
How kindly thou wouldst cheer me. 
And mingle tighs with mine, love. 

Around me scowls a wintry sky, 
That blasts each bud of hope and joy. 
And shelter, shade, nor home liave I, 
Save in those arms of thine, love. 
O wert, &c. 

Cold, alter'd friendship's cruel part. 

To poison fortune's ruthless dart — 

Let me not break thy faithful heart. 

And say that fate is mine; love. 

O wert, i&c. 

But dreary tho' the moments fleet, 
O let me think we yet shall meet 1 
That only ray of solace sweet 
Can on thy Chloris shine, love. 
O wert, &c. 



LAST MAY A BRAW WOOER. 

Tune — " Lothian Lassie." 
Last May a braw wooer came down the lang glen. 

And sair wi' his love he did deave me : 
I said there was naething I hated like men, 

The deuce jae wi'm to believe me, believe me. 

The deuce gae wi'm to believe me. 

He spak a' the darts in my bonie black een. 
And vow'd for my love he was dying ; 

I said he might die when he liked for Jean : 
The Lord forgie me for lying, for lyln^. 
The iord forgie rjie for lying 1 



HEY FOR A LASS W2' A TOGHElt, iOI 

A weel-stocked mailen, himsel for the laird, 

And marriage off-hand, were his proffers : 
I never loot on that I kend it, or car'd ; 

But thought I miglit hae waur offers, waur offers^ 
But thought I might hae waur offers. 

But what wad ye think ? in a fortnight or less, 

The deil tak liis taste to gae near her ! 
He up the lang loan to my black cousin Bess, 

Guess ye how, the jad ! I could bear her, could bear hef j, 

Guess ye how, the jad ! I could bear her. 

But a' the niest week as I fretted wi' care, 

I gaed to the tryste o' Dalgarnock, 
And wha but my fine fickle lover was there. 

I glowr'd as I'd seen a warlock, a warlock, 

I glowr'd as I'd seen a warlock. 

But owre my left shouther I gae him a blink. 

Lest neebors miglit say I was saucy ; 
My wooer he caper'd as he'd been in drink, 

And vow'd I was his dear lassie, dear lassie. 

And vow'd I was his dear lassie. 

I spier'd for my cousin fu' couthy and sweet. 

Gin she had recovered her hearin. 
And how her new shoon fit her auld shachl't feet— ^ 

But, heavens ! how he felV a swearin, a swearin. 

But, heavens 1 how he fell a swearin. 

He begged, for Gudesake ! I wad be his wife. 

Or else I wad kill him wi ' sorrow : 
So e'en to preserve the poor body in life, 

I think I maun wed him to-morrow, to-morrow, 

I think I maun wed him to-morrow. 



HEY FOR A LASS WI' A TOCHER. 

Tune—" Baiinamona ora." 

AwA wi' your witchcraft o' beauty's alarms. 
The slender bit beauty you grasp in your arms : 
O, gie me the lass that has acres o' charms, 
O, gie me the lass wi' the weel-stockit farms. 

CHORUS. 

Then hey, for a lass wi' a tocher, then hey, for a lasg 

wi' a tocher, 
Then hey, for the lass wi' a tocher, the nice yellow 

guineas for me. 

Your beauty's a flower in the morning that blows. 
And withers the faster, the faster it grows ; 
But the rai:)turous charm o' the bonie green knowes. 
Ilk spring they're new deckit wi' bonie white jowes, 
Then hey, etc. 



108 THE BIBKS OF ABERFELD7, 

And e'en when this beauty your bosom has blest. 
The brightest o' beauty may cloy, when possest ; 
But the sweet yellow darlings wi' Geordie imprest. 
The langer ye hae them — the mair they're carest. 
Then hey, etc. 



1 



ALTIIO' THOU MAUN NEVER BE MINE. 

Tune — " Here's a health to tliem that's awa, Hiney." 
CHORUS. 

Here's a health to ane I lo'e dear, 

Here's a health to ane I lo'e dear ; 

Thou art as sweet as the smile when fond lovers meet. 

And soft as their parting tear — Jessy I 

Altiio' thou maun never be mine, 

Altho' even hope is denied ; 
Tis sweeter for thee despairing. 

Than aught in the world beside — Jessy I 
Here's a health, &c. 

1 mourn thro' the gay, gaudy day, 

As, hopeless, I nmse on thy charms : 
Bnt welcome th€ dream of sweet slumber. 

For then I am lockt in thy arms — Jessy I 
Here's a health, &c, 

I guess by the dear angel smile, 

I guess by the love-rolling ee ; 
But why urge the tender confession 

'Gainst fortune's cruel decree — Jessy I 
Here's a health, &c. 



THE 



3IRKS OF 
FELDY. 



ABER. 



CHORUS. 

3onit, .assie, will ye go, will ye go, 

will ye go, 
Bonib Lassie, will ye go to the 

Birkh of Aberfeldy ? 

Now simmer blinks on flowery braes. 
And o'er the crystal streamlet plays. 
Come let us spend the lightsome days 
In the Birks of Aberfeldy. 
Bonnie lassie, &c. 

While o'er their heads the hazels hing, 

The little birdies blythely sing, 

Or lightly flit on wanton wing 

Inlhe Birks of Aberfeldy. 

Borne lassie, «S;c. 



The braes ascend like lofty wa's. 
The foaming stream deep roaring fa's, 
O'erhung wi' fragrant spreading 

shaws. 
The Birks of Aberfeldy, 

Bonie lassie, &c. 

The hoary cliffs are crown'd wi' flow- 
ers, 
White o'er the linns the burnie pours. 
And rising, weets wi' misty showers 
The Birks of Aberfeldy. 
Bonie lassie, &c. 

Let fortune s gifts at random flee, 
They ne'er sliall draw a wish frae 

me, 
Supremely blest wV love and thee^ 
In the Birks of Aberfeldy. 
Bonie lassie, &c. 



BAVINQ WINDS AROUND HER BLOWING. 



199 



THE YOUNG HIGHLAND 
ROVER. 

Tune—" Morag." 

Loud blaw the frosty breezes, 

The snaws the mountain cover ; 
Like winter on me seizes, 

Since my young Highland Rover 

Far wanders nations over. 
Where'er he go, where'er he stray. 

May Heaven be his warden : 
Keturn him safe to fair Strathspey, 

And bonnie Castle- Gordon ! 

The trees now naked groaning, 
Shall soon wi' leaves be hinging. 

The birdies dowie moaning, 
Shall a' be blythely singing. 
And every flower be springing, 

Sae I'll rejoice the lee-lang day, 
When 'by his mighty warden 

My youth's returned to fair Strath- 
spey, 
And bonie Castle-Gordon ! 

STAY, MY CHARMER. 

Tune—" An gille dubh ciar dhubh." 
Stay, my charmer, can you leave me ? 
Cruel, cruel to deceive me ! 
Well you know how much you grieve 
me ; 

Cruel charmer, can you go ? 

Cruel charmer, can you go ? 

By my love so ill-reqidled ; 

By the faith you fondly plighted 

By the pangs of lovers slighted ; 

Do not, do not leave me so ! 

Do not, do not leave me so ! 

FULL WELL THOU 
KNOW'ST. 

Tune—" Kothiemurchus's rant." 
CHORUS. 

Fairest maid on Devon banks, 
Crystal Devon, winding Devon, 

Wilt thou lay that frown aside. 
And smile as thou wert wont to do ? 

Full well thou know'st I love thee 

dear, 
Couldst thou to malice lend an ear ? 



0, did not love exclaim, "Forbeai:, 
Nor use a faithful lover so ? " 
Fairest maid, (kc. 

Then come, thou fairest of the fair, 
Those wonted smiles, O, let me share *. 
And by thy beauteous self I swear. 
No love but thine my heart shall 
know. 
Fairest maid, &c. 

STRATH ALLAN'S LAMENT. 

Thickest night, o'erhang my dwel- 
ling ! 

Howling tempests, o'er me rave ! 
Turbid torrents, wintry swelling, 

Still surround my lonely cave I 

Crystal streamlets gently flowing. 
Busy haunts of base mankind. 

Western breezes softly blowing. 
Suit not my distracted mind. 

In the cause of right engag'd. 
Wrongs injurious to redress. 

Honour's war w^e strongly wag'd, 
But the heavens deny'd success. 

Ruin's wheel has driven o'er us. 
Not a hope tliat dare attend ; 

The wide world is all before us — • 
But a world without a friend ! 

RAVING WINDS AROUND 
HER BLOWING. 

Tune— M'Gregorof Ruara's lament. 

RxVviNG wands around her blowing, 

Yellow leaves the woodlands strowing. 

By a river hoarsely roaring, 

Isabella stray'd deploring : 

" Farewell, hours that late did meas- 
ure 

Sunshine days of joy and pleasure ; 

Hail, thou gloomy night of sorrow. 

Cheerless night that knows no mor- 
row ! 

** O'er the pa.st too fondly wandering^ 
On the hopeless future pondering ; 
Chilly grief my life-blood freezes, 
Fell despair my fancy seizes, 
Life thou soul of every blessing, 
Load to misery most distressing. 
Oh, how gladly I'd re-^ign thee. 
And to dark o])livion join thee V* 



200 



THE LAZY MIST. 



MUSING ON THE ROARING 
OCEAN. 

Tune—" Druimion dubh." 

Musing on the roaring ocean 
Which divides my love and me ; 

Wearying Heaven in warm devotion, 
For his weal vrhere'er he be. 

Hope and fears's alternate billow 
Yielding late to nature's law ; 

Whisp'ring spirits round my pillow 
Talk of him that's far awa. 

Ye whom sorrow never wounded, 

Ye wiio never shed a tear, 
Care-untroubled, joy-surrounded, 

Gaudy day to you is dear. 

Gentle night, do thou befriend me ; 

Downy sleep the curtain draw ; 
Spirits kind, again attend me, 

I'alk of him that's far awa 1 



BLYTHE WAS SHE. 

Tune — " Andro and his cuttie gun." 
CHORUS. 

Blytlie, blythe and merry was she, 
JBlythe was she but and ben ; 

Blythe by the banks of Ern, 
And blythe in Glenture's glen. 

By Ochtertyre grows the aik. 

On Yarrow banks, the birken shaw; 

But Phemie was a bonier lass 
Than braes o' Yarrow ever saw. 
Blythe, &c. 



Her looks were like a flower in May, 
Her smile was like a simmer morn ; 

She tripped by the banks of Ern 
As light's a bird- upon a thorn. 
Blythe, &c. 

Her bonie face it was as meek 
As onie lamb's upon a lee ; 

Thje evening sun was ne'er sae sweet 
As was the blink o' Pliemie's ee. 
Blythe, &c. 

The Highland hills I've wander'd wide, 
And o'er the Lowland's Ihae been \ 

But Phemie was the blythest lass 
That ever trod the dewy green. 
Blythe, &c. 

PEGGY'S CHARMS. 

Tune— "Neil Gow's lamentation for Aber- 
cairuy." 

Where, braving angry winter's 
storms, 

The lofty Ochils rise, 
Far in their sliade my Peggy's charms 

First blest my wandering eyes. 
As one who, by some savage stream, 

A lonely gem surveys, 
Astonish'd doubly, marks it beam 

With art's most polish'd blaze. 

Blest be the wild, sequester'd shade. 

And blest the daj^ and hour, 
Where Peggy's cha'"m'? I fir.^t survey'd 

When first I felt their pow'r ! 
The tyrant death with gr'm control 

May seize my fleeting breath'; 
But tearing Peggy from my soul 

Must be a stronger death. 



THE LAZY MIST. 

Irish Air— " Coolun." 

The lazy mist hangs o'er the brow of the hill, 

Concealing the course of the dark-winding rill ; 

How languid the scenes, late so sprightly, appear. 

Autumn to winter resigns the pale year ! 

The forests are leafless, the meadows are brown, 

And all the gay foppery of summer is flown ; 

Apart let me wander, apart let me muse. 

How quick time is flying, how keen fate pursues ; 

How long I have lived, but how much lived in vain 

How little of life's scanty span may remain ; 



TIBBIE, I HAE SEEN THE DA Y. 



201 



What aspects, Old Time, in his progress, has worn ; 

What ties, cruel fate in my bosom has torn. 

How foolish, or worse, till our summit is gain'd ! 

And downward, how weaken'd, how darken'd, how pain'd I 

This life's not worth having with all it can give. 

For something beyond it poor man sure must live. 



ROSE-BUD BY 
EARLY WALK. 



MY 



Tune—" The Shepherd's Wife." 

A ROSE-BUD by my early walk, 
Adown a corn-enclosed bawk, 
Sae gently bent its thorny stalk, 
All on a dewy morning. 

Ere twice the shades o' dawn are fled, 
In a' its crimson glory spread. 
And drooping rich the dewy head. 
It scents the early morning. 

Within the bush, her covert nest 
A little linnet fondly prest. 
The dew sat chilly on her breast 
Sae early in the morning. 

She soon shall see her tender brood, 
The pride, the pleasure o' the wood, 
Amang the fresh green leaves bedew'd. 
Awake the early morning. 

So thou, dear bird, young Jeany fair. 
On trembling string or vocal air, 
Shall sweetly pay the tender care 
That tents thy early morning. 

So thou, sweet rose-bud, young and 

gay, 
Slialt beauteous blaze upon the day, 
And bless the parent's evening ray 
That watch'd thy early morning. 



TIBBIE, I 



HAE SEEN THE 
DAY. 



Tune—" Invercauld's reel." 
CHORUS. 

O Tibbie, I hae seen the day. 
Ye would na been sae shy ; 

For laik o' gear ye lightly me. 
But, trowth, I care na by. 



Yestreen I met you on the moor, 
Ye spak na, but gaed by like stoure 
Ye geek at me because I'm poor, 
But fiemt a hair care I. 
O Tibbie, I hae, &c. 

I doubt na, lass, but ye may think, 
Because ye hae the name o' clink, 
That ye can please me at a wink. 
Whene'er ye like to try. 
O Tibbie, I hae, &c. 

But sorrow tak him that's sae mean, 
Altho' his pouch o' coin were clean, 
Wha follows ony saucy quean 
That looks sae proud and high. 
O Tibbie, I hae, &c. 

Altho' a lad were e'er sae smart, 
If that he want the yellow dirt, 
Ye'll cast your head anither airt, 
And answer him f u' dry. 
O Tibbie, I hae, &c. 

But if ye hae the name o' gear, 
Ye'll fasten to him like a brier, 
Tho, hardlj^ he, for sense or lear. 
Be better than the kye. 
O Tibbie, I hae, &c. 

But, Tibbie, lass, tak my advice. 
Your daddy's gear maks you sae 

nice ; 
The deil a ane wad spier your price. 
Were ye as poor as I. 

O Tibbie, I hae, &c. 

There lives a lass in yonder park, 
I would na gie her in her sark, 
For thee wi' a' thy thousand mark: 
Ye need na look sae high. 
O Tibbie, I hae. &c. 



^02 



THE BRAES 0' BALLOCffMTLE. 



I LOVE MY JEAN. 

Tune—" Miss Admiral Gordon's Strathspey." 

Of a' the airts the wind can blaw, 

J. dearly like the west, 
For there the bonie lassie lives, 

The lassie I lo'e best : 
Tliere wild w^oods grow, and rivers 

TOW, 

And monie a hill between ; 
But day and night my fancy's flight 
Is ever wi' my Jean, 

I see her in the dewy flowers, 

I see her sweet and fair : 
I hear her in the tunefu' birds, 

I hear her charm the air : 
There's not a bonie flower that springs 

By fountain, shaw, or green ; 
There's not a bonie bird that sings, 

But minds me o' my Jean. 



O, AVERE I ON PARNAS- 
SUS' HILL ! 

Tune—" My Love is lost to me." 

O, "WERE I on Parnassus' hill ! 
Or had of Helicon my fill ; 
That 1 might catch poetic skill, 

To sing how dear I love thee. 
But Nith maun be my Muses well, 
My Muse maun be thy bonie sel ; 
On Corsincon I'll glowr and spell, 

And write how dear I love thee. 

Then come, sweet Muse, inspire my 

lay! 
For a' the lee-lang simmer's day, 
I could na sing, I could na say. 

How much, how dear, I love thee. 
I see thee dancing o'er the green. 
Thy waist sae jimp, thy limbs sae 

clean. 
Thy tempting looks, thy roguish een — 

By Heaven and earth I love thee 1 

By night, by day, a-field, at hame. 
The tiioughts o' thee my breast 

inflame ; 
And aye I muse and sing thy name — 
I only live to love thee. 



Tho' I were doom'd to wander on. 
Beyond the sea, beyond the sun, 
Till my last weary sand was run ; 
Till then — and then I'd love thee. 

THE BLISSFUL DAY. 

Tune — " Seventh of November.'" 

The day returns, my bosom burns, 

The blissful day we twa did meet ; 
Tho' winter wild in tempest toil'd, 
Ne'er summer-sun was half sac 
sweet. 
Than a' the pride that loads the tide. 

And crosses o'er the sultry line ; 
Than kingly robes, than crowns and 

globes. 
Heaven gave me more, it made theo 
mine. 

While day and night can bring delighi. 

Or nature aught of pleasure give ; 
While joys above my mind can move, 

For thee, and thee alone, I live ! 
When that grim foe of life below 

Comes in between to make us part ; 
The iron hand that breaks our band. 

It breaks my bliss — it breaks my 
heart. 

THE BRAES O' BALLOCH. 
MYLE. 

Tune—" Miss Forbes's farewell to Banff." 

The Catrine woods were yellow seen, 

The flowxTS decay 'd on Catrine lea, 
Nae lav'rock sang on hillock green. 

But nature sicken'd on the ee. 
Thro' faded groves Maria sang, 

Hersel in beauty's bloom thewhyle, 
And aye the wild-w^ood echoes rang, 

Fareweel the braes o' Ballochmyle. 

Low in your wintry beds, ye flowers, 

Again ye'll flourish fresh and fair ; 
Ye birdies dumb, in with'ring bowers. 

Again ye'll charm the vocal air. 
But here, alas ! for me nae mair 

Shall birdie charm, or floweret 
smile ; 
Fareweel the bonie banks of Ayr, 

Fareweel, fareweel, sweet Ballochr 
myle. 



TAM GLBN. 



^03 



THE HAPPY TRIO. 

Tune—" Willie brcw'd a pecli o' maut." 

O, "Willie brew'd a peck o' maut, 
And Rob and Allan cam to see ; 

Three blytlier hearts, that lee-lang 
night, 
Ye wad na find in Christendie. 

CHORUS. 

We are na fou, we're no that fou. 
But just a drappie in our ee , 

The cock may craw, the day may daw, 
And ay we'll taste the barley bree. 

Here are we met, three merry boys, 
Three merry boys, I trow, are we; 

And nionie a night we've merry been, 
And monie m.'ie we hope to be I 
We are na fou, &c. 

[t is the moon, I ken her horn, 
That's blink in in the lift sae hie ; 

She shines sae bright to wyleushame. 
But by my soolli she'll wait a wee 1 
We are na fou, &c. 

Wha first shall rise to gang awa, 
A cuckold, coward loun is he 1 
Wha first beside his chair shall fa' , 
is the King among u 
We are na fou, &c. 



THE BLUE-EYED LASSIE. 

Tune— " The blathrie o't." 

I GAED a waeful gate yestreen, 

A gate, I fear, I'll dearly rue •, 
I gat my death frae Iwa sweet een, 

Twa lovely een o' bonie blue. 
'Twas not lu-r golden ringlets bright, 

Her lips like roses wat wi' dew, 
Iler heaving bosom lily-white ; — 

It was her een sae bonie blue. 

She talked, she smil'd, my heart she 
wyl'd. 

She charm'd my soul I wist na how ; 
And ay the stound, the deadly wound. 

Cam frae her een sae bonie blue. 
But spare to speak, and spai-e to s])eed ; 

SIkHI aiblins listen to my vow : 
Should she refuse, I'll lay my dead 

To her twa een sae bonie blue. 



JOHN A.NDERSON MY JO. 

John Anderson my jo, John, 

When we were first acquent. 
Your locks were like the raven, 

Your bonie brow was brent ; 
But now your brow is held, John, 

Your locks are like the snaw ; 
But blessings on your frosty pow, 

John Anderson my jo. 

John Anderson my jo, John, 

We clanib the hill thegither ; 
And monie a canty day, John, 

We've had wi' ane anither : 
Now we maun totter down, John, 

But hand in hand we'll go. 
And sleep thegither at the foot, 

John Anderson my jo, 

TAM GLEN. 

Tune—" The mucking o' Geordie's byre ** 

My heart is a breaking, dear Title, 
Some counsel unto me come len'. 

To anger them a' is a pity ; 
But what will I do wi' Tarn Glen ? 

I'm thinking wi' sic a braw fellow, 
In poortith I might mak a fen' ; 

What care I in riches to wallow, 
If I maunna marry Tam Glen ? 

There's Lowrie the laird o' Dumeller, 

" Guid-day to you, brute!" he 

comes ben : 

He brags and he blaws o' his siller, 

But when will he dance like Tam 

Glen? 

My minnie docs constantly deave me. 
And bids me beware o' young men ; 

They fl.itter slie says, to deceive me ; 
But wha can think sae o' Tam Glen ? 

My daddic says, gin I'll forsake him; 

He'll gie me guid hunder marks ten; 
Bui, if it's oi-dain'd I maun take him, 

O wha will I get but Tam Glen ? 

Yestreen at the Valentine's dealing, 
JVIy heart to my mou gied a sten ; 

For thrice I drew ane without failing. 
And thrice it was written, Tam 
Glen. 



204 WHAT CAN A YOUNG LASSIE DOf 

The last Halloween I was waukin CHORrjs. 

My droukit sark-sleeve, as ye ken : m, -j •* * *i i • ^t 

His Le,.ss cam up .he housi stauk- Then gujdw.fe ^count_^the lawm, the 

And^the^ very gray brocks o' Tarn Then guidwife^count tJ.e. lawin. and 

Come coimsel, dear Tittle, don't tarry; There's wealth and ease for gentlemen, 
I'll gie you my bonie black hen, And semple-folk maun fecht and feu', 

Gif ye will advise me to marry But here we're a' in ae accord, 

The lad I lo'e dearly, Tarn Glen. For ilka man that's drunk's a lord, 

Then guidwife count, &c. 

GANE IS THE DAY. My coggie is a haly pool, 

Tune— "Guidwife count the lawin." That heals the wounds o' care and 
Gane is the day, and mirk's the night, dool ; 

But we'll ne'er stray for faute o' light. And pleasure is a wanton trout. 

For ale and brandy's stars and moon. An' ye drink it a' ye'll find him out. 
And bluid-red wine's the risin' sun. Then guidwife count, &c. 

MY TOCHER'S THE JEWEL. 

O MEiKLE thinks my luve o' my beauty, 

And meikle thinks my luve o' my kin ; 
But little thinks my luve I can brawlie 

My Tocher's the jewel has charms for liim. 

It's a' for the apple he'll nourish the tree ; 

"^t's a' for the hiney he'll cherish the bee ; 
;^i^ laddie's so meikle in luve wi' the siller, 

He canna hae luve to spare for me. 

Your proffer o' luve's an airle-penny, 

My Tocher's the bargain ye wad buy ; 
But an ye be crafty, I am cnninin, 

Sae ye wi' anither your fortune maun try. 

Ye're like to the timmer o' yon rotten wood ; 

Ye're like the bark o' yon rotten tree ; 
Ye'll slip frae me like a knotless thread. 

And ye'll crack your credit wi' mae nor me. 

WHAT CAi^ A YOUNG LASSIE DO WF AN OLD MAN? 

Tune—" What can a Lassie do." 

What can a young lassie, what shall a young lassie, 
What can a young lassie do wi' an aiild man ? 

Bad luck on the penny that tempted my minnie 
To sell her poor Jenny- for siller an' Ian ! 
Bad luck on the penny, &c. 

He's always compleenin frae mornin to e'nin, 
He hosts and he hirples the weary day lang : 

He's doylt and he's dozing, his bluid it is frozen, 
O, dreary's the night wi' a crazy auld man 1 



BESSIE AND HER SPINNIN WHEEL. 



205 



He hums and iiB hankers, he frets and he cankers, 
I never can please him do a' that I can ; 

He's peevish, and jealous of a' the young fellows ; 
O, dool on the day, I met wi' an auld man I 

My auld auntie Katie upon me takes pity, 
I'll do my endeavor to follow her plan ; 

I'll cross him, and rack him, until I heart-break him. 
And then his auld brass will buy me a nev/ pan. 



O, FOR ANE AND TWENTY, 
TAM ! 

Tune—" The Moudiewort." 
CHORUS. 

An O for ane and twenty, Tam ! 

An hey, sweet ane and twenty, 
Tam! 
I'll learn my kin a rattlin sang, 

An I saw ane and twenty, Tam. 

They snool me sair, and haud me 
down. 
And gar me look like bluntie, Tam ! 
But three short years will soon wheel 
rouu', 
And then comes ane and twenty, 
Tam. 
An O for ane, etc. 

A gleib o' laud', a claut o' gear. 
Was left me by my auntie, Tam ; 

At kith or kin I need na spier. 
An I saw ane and twenty, Tam. 
An O for ane, etc. 

They'll hae me wed a wealthy coof , 

Tho' I niysel' hae plenty, Tam ; 
But hear'st thou, laddie, there's my 
loof, 
I'm thine at ane and twenty, Tam ! 
An O for ane, etc. 

THE BONIE WEE THING. 

Tune—" The Lads of Saltcoats," 

BoNiE wee thing, cannie wee thing, 
Ix)vely wee thing, was thou mine, 

I wad wear thee in my bosom. 
Lest my jewel I should tine. 

Wishfully I look and languish 
In that bonie face o' thine ; 

And my heart it stounds wi' anguish, 
Jjcst my wee thing be na ijii-ne. 



Wit, and gra^e, and love, and besiuty. 

In ae constellation shine ; 
To adore thee is my duty, 

Goddess o' this soul o' mine I 
Bonie wee, etc. 



THE BANKS OF NITH. 

Tune—" Robie Donua Gorach." 

The Thames flows proudly to the sea, 

Where royal cities stately stand ; 
But sweeter flows the Nith to me, 

Where Cummins ance had high 
command : 
When shall I see that honoured land. 

That winding stream I love so dear ! 
Must wayward "fortune's adverse hand 

For ever, ever keep me here ? 

How lovely, Nith, thy fruitful vales. 
Where spreading hawthorns gaily 
bloom ; 
How sweetly wind thy sloping dales. 
Where lambkins wanton thro' the 
broom ! 
Tho' wandering, now, must be my 
doom. 
Far from thy bonie banks and braes. 
May there my latest hours consume, 
Amang the friends of early days ! 

BESSY AND HER SPINNIN 
WHEEL. 

Tune—" Bottom of the Punch Bowl." 

O LEEZE me on my spinnin wheel, 
O leeze me on my rock and reel ; 
Frae tap to tae that deeds me bieu, 
And haps me fiel and warm at e'en I 
I'll set me down and sing and spin. 
While laigh descends the simmer sun, 
Blest wi' content, and mi'k and meal— ' 
O leeze me on my spinnin wheel. 



206 



FAIR ELIZA. 



On Ilka band the burnies trot, 
And meet below my theekit cot ; 
The scented birk and bawtliorne 

white, 
Across the pool their arms unite, 
Alike to screen the birdie's nest, 
And little tishes' caller rest : 
The sun blinks kindly in the bid', 
Where blythe I turn my spiunin wheel. 

On lofty aiks the cushats wail, 
And echo cons the doolfu' tale ; 
The lintwhites in the hazel braes, 
Delighted, rivjil ither's lays : 
The craik amang the claver hay. 
The paitrick whirrin o'er the ley, 
The swallow jinkin round my shiel, 
Amuse me at my spinuin wheel. 

Wi' sma' to sell, and less to buy, 
Aboon distress, below envy, 
O wha wad leave this humble state, 
For a' the pride of a' the great ? 
Amid their tlarin, idle toys. 
Amid their cumbrous, dinsome joys, 
Can they the peace and pleasure feel 
Of Bessy at her spinniu wheel ? 

COUNTRY LASSIE. 

^■^^ Tune — "John, come kiss me now." 

In simmer when the hay was mawn, 

And corn wav'd green in ilka field, 
While claver blooms white o'er the 
lea, 

And roses blaw in ilka bield ; 
Blythe Bessie in the milking shiel, 

Says, " 111 be wed, come o"t what 
will ; ' 
Out spoke a dame in wrinkled eild, 

" O' guid advisement comes nae ill. 

" It's ye hae wooers monie ane, 

And, lassie, ye're but young ye ken; 
Then wait a wee, and cannie wale 

A routhie butt, a routhie ben : 
There's Johnie o the Buskie-glen, 

Fu' is his barn, fu' is his byre ; 
Tak this frae me, my bonie hen, 

its plenty beets the luver's fire," 

" For Johnie o' the Buskie-glen 

I dinua care a single flie ; 
He lo'es sae weel his craps and kye, 

He has nae luve to spare for me ; 



But blithe's the blink o' Robie's ee, 
And weel I wat ho lo'es me dear ; 

Ae blink o' him I wad nae gie 
For Buskie-glen and a' his gear." 

" O thoughtless lassie, life's a f aught ! 

The canniest gate, the strife is sail ; 
But aye fu' han't is fechtiii best, 

A hungry care's an unco c"^re : 
But some will spend, and bo^iq will 
spare, 

An' wilfu' folk maun hae their will ; 
Syne as ye brew, my maiden fair. 

Keep mind that ye maun drink th<»- 

. yiii." 

" O, gear will buy me rigs o' land. 
And gear will buy me sheep and 
kye ; 
But the tender heart o' leesome luve 

The gowd and siller canna buy : 
We may be poor — llobie and I, 

Light is the burden luve lays on ; 
Content and luve brings peace aD(i, 
joy, 
What mair hae queens upon a 
throno ? " 

FAIR ELIZA. 

Tune—" The bonie bnicket Lassie,'* 
Turn again, thou fair Eliza, 

Ae kind blink before we part. 
Hue on th}^ despairing lover ! 

Canst thou break his faithfu' hean f 
Turn again, thou fair Eliza ; 

If to love thy heart denies. 
For pity hide the cruel sentenf*e 

Under friendship's kind disguise i 

Thee, dear maid, hae I offended ? 

The offence is loving thee ; 
Canst thou wreck his peace for ever, 

Wha for thine wad gladly die ? 
While the life beats in my bosom. 

Thou shalt mix in ilka throe : 
Turn again, thou lovely maiden, 

Ae sweet smile on me bestow. 

Not the bee upon the blossom. 

In the pride o' sinny noon ; 
Not the little sporting fairy. 

All beneath the simmer moon ; 
Not the poet in the moment 

Fancy lightens in his ee. 
Kens the pleasure, feels the raptur%. 

That thy presence gies to pie. 



THE POSIE. 207 



SHE'S FAIR AND FAUSE. 

She's fair and fause that causes mj Whae'er ye be that woman love, 

smart, To this be never blind, 

I lo'ed her meikle and lang .- Nae ferlie 'tis tho' fickle she prove. 

She's broken her vow, she's broken A woman Iias't by kind : 

my heart, O Woman lovely. Woman fair ! 

And I may e'en gae hang. An Angel's form's faun to thy 

A coof cam in wi' rowth o' gear, share. 

And I hae tint my dearest dear, 'Twad been o'er meikle to gienthae 

But woman is but warld's gear, mair, 

Sae let the bonie lass gang. I mean an Angel mind. 



THE POSIE. 

O LUVE will venture in, where it daur na weel ne seen, 
O luve will venture in, where wisdom ance has Deen ; 
But I will down yon river rove, amang the wood sae green. 
And a' to pu' a Posie to my ain dear May. 

The primrose I will pu' the firstling o' the year, 
And I will pu' the pink, the emblem o' my dear, 
For she's the pink o' womankind, and blooms without a peer ; 
And a' to be a Posie to my ain dear May. 

I'll pu' the budding rose, when Phoebus peeps in view, 
For it's like a baumy kiss o' her sweet bonie mou ; 
The hyacinth's for constancy, wi' its unchanging blue. 
And a' to be a Posie to my ain dear May. 

The lily it is pure, and the lily it is fair. 
And in her lovely bosom I'll place the lily there ; 
The daisy's for simplicity and unaffected air, 
And a' to be a Posie to my ain dear May. 

The hawthorn I will pu', wi' its locks o' siller grey. 
Where, like an aged man, it stands at break o' lay. 
But the songster's nest within the bush I winni. tak away; 
And a' to be a Posie to my ain dear May. 

The woodbine I will pu' when the e'ening star is near, 
And the tliamond drops o' dew shall be her een sae clear ; 
The violet's for modesty which weel she fa's to wear. 
And a' to be a Posie to my ain dear May. 

I'll tie the Posie round wi' the silken band o' luve, 
And I'll place it in her breast, and I'll swear by a' above, 
That to my latest draught o' life the band shall ne'er remuvej 
And thi§r jiiW l^. a Posie to, my ain dear May. 



208 



GLOOMY DECEMBER. 



THE BANKS O' DOOIsr. 

Tune—" The Caledonian Hunt's delight." 

Ye banks and braes o' bonie Doon, 

How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair! 
How can ye chant, ye httle birds, 

And I sae weary f u' o' care ! 
Thou'll break my heart, thou warbling 
bird, 

That wantons thro' the flowering 
thona : 
Thou minds me o' departed joys, 

Departed — never to return. 

Thou'lt break my heart, thou bonie 
bird. 

That sings beside thy mate, 
For sae I sat, and sae I sang. 

And wist na o' my fate. 
Aft hae I rov'd by bonie Doon, 

To see the rose and woodbine twine ; 
And ilka bird sang o' its luve, 

And fondly sae'did I o' mine. 

Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose, 

Fu' sweet upon its thorny tree ; 
And my fause luver stole my rose. 

But ah ! he left the thorn wi' me. 
"Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose 

Upon a morn in June ; 
And sae I flourisli'd on the morn. 

And sae was pu'd on noon. 



VERSION PRINTED m 
THE MUSICAL MUSEUM. 

Ye flowery banks o' bonie Doon, 
How can ye blume sae fair ! 

How can ye chant, ye little birds, 
And I sae fu' o' care. 



Thou'll break my heart, thou bonio 
bird. 

That sings upon the bough ; 
Thou minds me o' the happy days, 

When my fause luve was true. 

Thou'll break my heart, thou bonie 
bird, 

That sings beside thy mate •, 
yor sae I sat, and sae I sang, 

And wist na o' my fate. 

Aft hae I rov'd by bonie Doon, 
To see the wood-bine twine. 

And ilka a bird sang o' its love, 
And sae did I o' mine. 

Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose 

Frae off its thorny tree. 
And my fause luver staw the ros^ 

And left the thorn wi' me. 



GLOOMY DECEMBER. 

Ance mair I hail thee, thou gloomy December I 

Ance mair I hail thee wi' sorrow and care ; 
Sad was the parting thou makes me remember, 

Parting wi' Nancy, oh ! ne'er to meet mair. 
Fond lovers' parting is sweet painful pleasure, 

Hope beaming mild on the soft parting hour ; 
But the dire feeling, O farewell for ever. 

Is anguish unmingl'd and agony pure, 

Wild as the winter now tearing the forest. 

Till the last leaf o' the summer is flown, 
Such is the tempest has shaken my bosom. 

Since my last hope and last comfort is gone ; 
Still as I hail thee, thou gloomy December, 

Still shall I hail thee wi' sorrow and care ; 
For sad was the parting thou makes me remember. 

Parting wi' Nancy, oh ! jie'er to meet mair. 



AFTON WATER 



BEHOLD THE HOUR. 

Tune—" Oran Gaoil." 

Behold the hour, the boat arrive ! 
Thou goest, thou darling of my 
heart : 
8ever'd from thee can I survive ? 
But fate has will'd, and we must 
part ! 
I'll often greet tliis surging swell ; 
Yon distant isle will often hail : 
" E'en here I took the last farewell ; 
There latest mark'd her vanish'd 
sail." 

Along the solitary shore. 
While flitting sea-fowls round me 
cry, 
Across the rolling, dashing roar, 

I'll westward turn my wistful eye : 
"Happy, thou Indian grove," I'll say, 
" Where now my Nancy's path may 
be! 
While thro' thy sweets she loves to 
stray, 
O tell me, does she muse on me ? " 

WnXIE'S WIFE. 

Tune—" Tibbie Fowler in the Glen." 

Willie Wastle dwelt on Tweed, 
The spot they ca'd it Linkumdod- 
die, 

Willie was a wabster guid, 
Cou'd stown a clue wi' onie bodie ; 



He had a wife was dour and din, 
O Tinkler Madgie was her mither •, 
Sic a wife as Willie had, 
I wad na gie a button for her. 

She has an ee, she has but ane, 

The cat has twa the very colour 
Five rusty teeth, forbye a stump, 
A clapper tongue wad deave a mil« 
ler ; 
A whiskin beard about her mou. 
Her nose and chin they threaten 
ither ; 
Sic a wife, &c. 

She's bow-hough'd, she's hein shin- 
n'd. 
Ae limping leg a hand-breed short- 
er ; 
She's twisted right, she's twisted left. 

To balance fair in ilka quarter : 
She has a hump upon her breast. 
The twin o' that upon her shou- 
ther ; 
Sic a wife, &c. 

Auld baudrons by the ingle sits, 

An' wi' her loof her face a-washin ; 
But Willie's wife is nae sae trig. 
She dights her grunzie wi' a hush- 
ion ; 
Her walie nieves like midden-creels. 
Her face wad fyle the Logan-wa» 
ter ; 
Sic a wife as Willie had, 
I wad na gie a button for her. 



AFTON WATER. 

Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes. 
Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song in thy praise ; 
My Mary's asleep by thy murnmring stream. 
Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream. 

Thou stock-dove whose echo resounds thro' the glen, 
Ye wild whistling blackbirds in yon thorny den. 
Thou green-crested lapwing, thy screaming forbear, 
I charge you disturb not my slumbering fair. 

How lofty, sweet Afton, thy neighboring hills, 
For mark'd with the courses of clear, winding rills 
There daily I w^ander as noon rises high, 
Kj flocks ^)xd my Mary's sweet col in mjey§. 



MQ 



MAY, THY MORN. 



How pleasant thy banks and green valleys below, 
Where wild in the woodlands the primroses blow ; 
There oft as mild ev'ning weeps over the lea, 
The sweet-scented birk shades my Mary and me. 

Thy crystal stream, Afton, how lovely it glides, 
And winds by the cot where my Mary resides ; 
How wanton thy waters her snowy feet lave. 
As gathering sweet flow'rets she stems thy clear ware. 

Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes, 
Flow gently, sweet river, the theme of my lays ; 
My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream. 
Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream. 



LOUIS, WHAT RECK I BY 
THEE. 

Tune— " My Mother's aye glowering o'er inc." 

Louis, what reck I by thee, 
Or Geordie on his ocean ? 

Dyvour, beggar loons to me, 
I reign in J^anie's bosom. 

Let her crown my love her law, 
And in her breast enthrone me : 

Kings and nations, swith awa ! 
Keif randies, I disown ye ! 

BONIE BELL. 

The smiling spring comes in rejoic- 
ing, 
And surly winter grimly flies : 
Now crystal clear are the falling wa- 
ters. 
And bonnie blue are the sunny 
skies ; 
Fresh o'er the mountains breaks forth 
the morning. 
The evening gilds the ocean's swell ; 
All creatures joy in the sun's return- 
ing. 
And I rejoice in my bonie Bell. 

The flowery spring leads sunny sum- 
mer, 
Then in his turn comes gloomy win- 
ter. 
Till smiling spring again appear. 
Thus scasons'dancing, lie advancing, 
Old Time and Nature their changes 
tell. 
But never ranging, still unchanging 
X adore my bonie BeU- 



FOR THE SAKE OF SOME 
BODY. 

Tune—" The Highland Watcli's Farewell.' 

My heart is sair, I dare na tell, 

My heart is sair for somebody ; 
I could wake a winter night, 
For the sake o' somebody ! 
Oh-hon ! for somebody ! 
Oh-hey ! for somebody ! 
I could ra-nge the world around. 
For the sake o' somebody. 

Ye powers that smile on virtuous love, 

O, sweetly smile on somebody ! 
Frae ilka danger keep him free, 
And send me safe my somebody. 
Oh-hon ! for somebody ! 
Oh-hey ! for somebody ! 
I wad do — what would I not ? 
For the sake o' somebody ! 



O MAY, THY MORN. 

O May, thy morn was ne'er so sweet, 
As the mirk night o' December, 

For sparkling was the rosy wine. 
And private was the chamber : 

And dear was she I dare na name, 
But I will aye remember. 
And dear, &c. 

And here's to them, that, like oursel, 
Can push about the jorum. 

And here's to them that wish us weel, 
May a' that's guid watch o'er them ; 

And here's to them we dare na tell. 
The dearest of the quorum. 
A"d here's to, &c. 



A YI8I0K 



211 



THE LOVELY LASS OF 
INVERNESS. 

The lovely lass o' Inverness, 

Nae joy nor pleasure can she see ; 
For e'en and morn she cries, alas ! 

And aye the saut tear blins her ee : 
Drumossie moor, Drumossie day, 

A waef ii' day it was to me ; 
For there I lost my father dear, 

jNIy father dear, and brethren three. 

Their winding-sheet the bluidy clay, 
Their graves are growing green to 
see ; 
And by them lies the dearest lad 
That ever blest a woman's ee ! 
Now wae to thee, thou cruel lord, 

A bluidy man I trow thou be ; 
For monie a heart thou hast made 
sair. 
That ne'er did wrong to thine or 
thee. 

A REB, RED ROSE. 

TuNK— " Wishaw's favourite. ' 
O, MY luve's like a red, red rose, 

That's newly sprung in June : 
O, my hive's like the melodie 

That's sweetly played in tune. 

As fair art thou, my bonie lass, 

So deep in luve am I : 
And I will luve thee still, my dear, 

Till a' the seas gang dry. 

Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear, 
And the rocks melt wi' the sun : 

I will luve thee still, my dear, 
While the sands o' life shall run. 

And fare thee v*^eel, my only luve. 
And fare thee weel awhile ! 

And I will come again, my luve, 
Tho' it were ten thousand mile. 

O, WAT YE WHA'S IN YON 
TOWN. 

TuNE^-" The bonie Lass in yon town." 
O, WAT ye wha's in yon town, 

Ye see the e'enin sun upon ? 
The fairest dame's in yon town, 

Tiiat e'enin sun is shining on. 



Now haply down yon gay green stiaw, 
She wanders by yon spreading tree : 

How blest, ye fiow'rs that round her 
blaw, 
Ye catch the glances o' her e'c ! 

How blest, ye birds that round her 
sing. 

And welcome in the blooming yearj 
And doubly welcome be the spring, 

The season to my Lucy dear ! 

The sun blinks blithe on yon town, 
And on your bonie braes of Ayr ; 

But my delight in you town. 
And dearest bliss, is Lucy^fair. 

Without my love, not a' the charms 
0' Paradise could yield me joy ; 

But gie me Lucy in my arms. 

And welcome Lapland's dreary 
sky. 

My cave wad be a lover's bower, 
Tho' raging winter rent the air ; 

And she a lovely little flower. 
That I wad tent and shelter there. 

sweet is she in yon town. 

Yon sinkin sun's gane down upon ; 
A fairer than's in yon town, 
His setting beam ne'er shone upon. 

If angry fate is sworn my foe, 

And suffering I am doom'd to bear ; 

1 careless quit all else below. 

But spare me, spare me Lucy dear. 

For while life's dearest blood is warm, 
Ae thought f rae her shall ne'er de- 
part, 

And she — as fairest is her form. 
She has the truest, kindest heart. 



A VISION. 

Tune— "Cumr-C"k Psalms." 

As I Stood by yon roofless tower, 
Where the wa' flower scents the 
dewy air. 
Where the howlet mourns in her ivy 
bower, 
And tells the midnight moon her 
care: 



312 



THE HIGHLAND LASSIE. 



CHORUS. 

A lassie, all alone, was making her 
moan, 
Lamentiuo- our lads beyond the sea : 
In the bluidy wars they fa', and our 
honour's gane an' a', 
And broken-hearted we maun die. 

The winds were laid, the air was still. 
The stars they shot alang the sky ; 

The fox was howling on the hill, 
And the distant-eciioing glens reply. 

The stream, adown its hazelly path, 
Was rushing by the ruin'd wa's, 

Hasting to join the sweeping Nith, 
Whase "distant roarings swell and 
fa's. 

The cauld blue north was streaming 
forth 

Her lights, wi' hissing, eerie din ; 
Athort the lift they start and shift, 

Like fortune's favors^ tint as win. 

By heedless chance I turn'd mine eyes, 
And, by the moonbeam, shook to see 

A stern and stalwart ghaist arise, 
Attir'd as minstrels wont to be. 

Had I a statue been o' stane 

His darin look had daunted me : 

And on his bonnet grav'd was plain 
The sacred posy — Libertie ! 

And frae his harp sic strains did flow, 
Might rous'd the slumbering dead to 
hear ; 

But oh, it was a tale of woe, 
As ever met a Briton's ear ! 

He sang wi' joy his former day. 
He weeping wail'd his latter times ; 

But what he said it was nae play, 
I winna venture't in my rhymes. 

O, WERT THOU IN THE 
CAULD BLAST. 

Tune—" The Lass of Livingstone." 

O, WERT thou in the cauld blast. 
On yonder lea, on yonder lea, 

My plaidie to the angry airt, 
J'd shelter tUee, I'd slielt«r tljee. 



Or did misfortunes bitter storms 
Around thee blaw, around thee blaw. 

Thy bield should be my bosom. 
To share it a', to share it a'. 

Or were I in the wildest waste, 

Of earth and air, of earth and air, 
The desart were a paradise. 

If thou wert there, if thou wert 
there. 
Or were I monarch o' the globe, 

Wi' thee to reign, wi' thee to reign, 
The only jewel in my crown 

Wad be my queen, wad be my 
queen. 



THE HIGHLAND LASSIE. 

Tune — " The deulis dang o'er my daddy." 

Nae gentle dames, tho' e'er sae fair. 
Shall ever be my Muse's care : 
Their titles a' are empty show ; 
Gie me my Highland lassie, O. 

CHORUS. 

Within the glen sae bushy, O, 
Aboon the plain sae rushy, O, 
I set me down wi' right good will. 
To sing my Highland lassie, O. 

Oh, were yon hills and valleys mine, 
Yon palace and yon gardens fine ! 
The world then the love should knoW 
1 bear my Highland lassie, O. 
Within the glen, &c. 

But fickle fortune frowns on me, 
And I maun cross the raging sea ; 
But while my crimson currents flow 
I'll love my Highland lassie, O. 
Within the glen, &c. 

Altho' thro' foreign climes I range, 
I know her heart will never change, 
For her bosom burns with honour's 

glow, 
My faithful Highland lassie, O. 
Within the glen, &c. 

For her I'll dare the billow's roar, 
For her I'll trace a distant shore. 
That Indian wealth may lustre throw 
Around my Highland lassie, O 
WitJUin the glen, &c. 



I LAY WHERE FLOWERS WERE SPRINGING. 



213 



She has my heart, she has my hand, 
By sacred truth and honour's band ! 
Till the mortal stroke shall lay me low, 
I'm thine, my Highland lassie, 0. 

Fare w eel the glen sae bushy, O ! 
Fareweel the plain sae rushy, O ! 
To other lands I now must go, 
To sing my Highland lassie, O I 



JOCKEY'S TA'EN THE 
PARTING KISS. 

Jockey's ta'en the parting kiss. 
O'er the mountains he is gane ; 

And with him is a' my bliss, 
Nought but griefs with me remaia 

Spare my luve, ye winds that blaw, 

Plashy sleets and beating rain ! 
Spare my luve, thou feathery snaw, 
{ Drifting o'r the frozen plain ! 

When the shades of evening creep 
O'er the day's fair, gladsome ee, 

Sound and safely may he sleep, 
Sweetly blythe his waukening be ! 

He will think on her he loves. 
Fondly he'll repeat her name : 

f W where'er he distant roves. 
Jockey's heart is still at hame. 



PEGGY'S CHARMS. 

My Peggy's face, my Peggy's form, 
The frost of hermit age might warm ; 
.My Peggy's worth, my Peggy's mind, 
IMight charm the first of human kind. 
I love my Peggy's angel air. 
Her face so truly, heavenl}^ fair. 
Her native grace so void of art ; 
But I adore my Peggy's heart. 

The lily's hue, the rose's dye. 
The kindling lustre of an eye ; 
Who but owns their magic sway. 
Who but knows they all decay ! 
The tender thrill, the pitying tear. 
The generous pui'posc, nobly dear, 
The gentle look that rage disarms, 
These are all immortal charms. 



UP IN THE MORNING 
EARLY. 

CHORUS. 

Up in the morning's no for me. 
Up in the morning early ; 

When a' the hills are cover'd wi' 
snaw, 
I'm sure it's winter fairly. 

Cauld blaws the wind frae east to 
west. 

The drift is driving sairly ; 
Sae loud and shrill's I hear the blast, 

I'm sure it's winter fairly. 

The birds sit cluttering in the thorn, 
A' day they fare buf sparely : 

And lang's the night frae e'en to morn, 
I'm sure it's winter fairly. 
Up in the morning, &c. 



THO' CRUEL FATE. 

Tho' cruel fate should bid us part, 
As far's the pole and line ; 

Her dear idea round my heart 
Should tenderly entwine. 

Tho' mountains frown and deserts 
howl. 

And oceans roar between ; 
Yet, dearer than my deathless soul, 

I still would love my Jean. 



I DREAM'D I LAY WHERE 

FLOWERS WERE 

SPRINGING. 

I DREAMED I lay wlicrc flowers were 
springing 
Gaily in the sunny beam ; 
List'ning to the wild birds singing. 

By a falling, crystal stream : 
Straight the sky grew black and dar- 
ing ; 
Thro' the woods the whirlwinds 
rave ; 
Trees with ag^d arms were warring, 
O'er the swelling, drumlie wave. 



2U 



THERE' 8 A YOUTH IN THIS CITY. 



Such was my life's deceitful morning, 

Sucli the pleasures I enjoy'd ; 
But lang'or noon, loud tempests storm- 
ing 

A' my flowery bliss destroy 'd. 
Tho' fickle fortune has deceiv'd me. 

She promis'd fair,and perform'd but 
ill; 
Of monie a joy and hope bereav'd me, 

I bear a heart shall support me still. 

BONIE ANK 

Ye gallants bright, I red you right, 

Beware o' bonie Ann : 
Her comely face sae f u' o' grace. 

Your heart she will trepan. 
Her een sae bright, like stars by night. 

Her skin is like the swan : 
Sae jimpy lac'd her genty wais*:, 

Til at sweetly ye might span. 

Youth; grace, and love, attendant move, 
And pleasure leads the van ; 

In a' their charms, and conquering 
arms. 
They wait on bonie Ann. 



The captive bands may chain the 
hands. 

But love enslaves the man : 
Ye gallants braw, I red you a'. 

Beware o' bonie Ann. 

MY^ BONIE MARY. 

Go fetch to me a pint o' wine, | 

An' till it in a silver tassie ; 
That I may drink before I go, 

A service to my bonie lassie. 
The boat rocks at the pier of Leith ; 

Fu' loud the wind blaes frae the 
ferry ; 
The ship rides by the Berwick-law, 

And 1 maun leave my bonie Mary. 

The trumpets sound, the banners fly, 

The glittering spears are ranked 
ready ; 
The shouts o' war are heard afar, 

The battle closes thick and bloody ; 
But it's no the roar o' sea or shore 

Wad makes me langer wish to tarry; 
Nor shout o' war that's heard afar, 

It's leaving thee, my bonie Mary. 



MY HEART'S IN THE HIGHLANDS. 

My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here ; 
My heart's in the Highlands, a-chasing the deer ; 
Chasing tlie wild deer, and following the roe. 
My heart's in the Highhuids wherever I go. 
Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the North, 
The birth place of valour, the country of worth ; 
Wherever I wander, wherever I rove. 
The hills of the Highlands forever I love. 

Farewell to the mountains high cover'd with snow ; 
Farewell to the straths and green valleys below ; 
Farewell to the forests and wild-hanging woods ; 
Farewell to the torrents and loud-pouring floods. 
My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here ; 
My heart's in the Highlahds, a-chasing the doer ; 
Chasing the wild deer, and following the roe, 
My heart's in the Highlands, wherever I go. 



THERE'S A Y^OUTH IN THIS CITY. 

Tune — " Neil Gow's lament." 
There's a youth in this city, it were a great pity. 

That he from our lasses should wander awa ; 
For he's bonie and braw, weel-favour'd witha'. 

And his hair has a natural buckle and a'. 



YON WILD MGSSY MOUNTAIN'S. 



dl5 



His coat is the hue of his bonnet sae blue ; 

His fecket as white as the new driven suaw ; 
His hose tliey are blae, and his shoou like the slae, 

And his clear siller buckles they dazzle us a'. 
His coat is the hue, <ii:c. 

For beauty and fortune the laddie's been courtin ; 

Weel-featur'd, weel-tocher'd, weel-mounted and brav 
But chiefly the siller, that gars him gang till her, 

The pennie's the jewel that beautities a'. 
There's Meg wi' the mailin, that fain wad a haeu him, 

And Susy wliase daddy was Laird o' the ha'i 
There's lang-tocher'd Nancy maist fetters his fancy, 

— But the laddie's dear sel he lo'es dearest of a'. 



THE 



RANTIK 
DADDIE 



DOG 
O'T. 



THE 



Tune—" East nook o' Fife." 
O WHA my babie-clouts will buy ? 
Wlia will tent me when I cry ? 
Wha will kiss me whare I lie ? 
The rantin dog the daddie o't. 

Wha will own he did the faut ? 
Wha will buy my groanin maut ? 
Wiia will tell me how to ca't ? 
The rantin dog the daddie o't. 

When I mount the creepie-chair, 
Wha will sit beside me there ? 
Gie me Rob, I seek nae mair, 
The rantin dog the daddie o't. 

Wha will crack to me my lane ? 
Wha will mak me fidgin fain ? 
Wha will kiss me o'er agin ? 
The rantin dog the daddie o't. 



I DO CONFESS THOU ART 
SAE FAIR. 

I DO confess thou art sae fair, 
I wad been o'er the lugs in luve; 

Had I not found the slightest prayer 
That lips could speak, thy heart 
could muve. 

^ido confess thee sweet, but find 
Thou art sae thriftless o' thy sweets. 

Thy favours are the silly wind 
That kisses ilka thing it meets. 

See yonder rose-bud rich in dew, 
Amang its native briers sae coy, 

How soon it tines its scent and hue 
When pu'd and worn a common toy ! 

Sic fate ere lang shall thee betide, 
Tho' thou may gaily bloom a while ; 

Yet soon thou shalt be thrown aside. 
Like onie common weed and vile. 



YON WILD MOSSY MOUNTAINS. 

Yon wild mossy mountains sae lofty and wide. 
That nurse in their bosom the youth o' the Clyde, 
Where the grouse lead their coveys thro' the heather to feed. 
And the shepherd tents his flock as he pipes on his reed ; 
AVhere the grouse, &c. 

Not Gowrie's rich valley, nor Forth's sunny shores. 
To me hae the charms o' yon wild mossy moors ; 
For there, by a lanely, secjuester'J clear stream. 
Resides a sweet lassie, my thought and my dream. 

Amang thae wild moimtains shall still be my path, 
Ilk stream foaming down its ain green narrow strath ; 
For there wi' my lassie, the day la^ng I rove. 
While o'er us unheeded fly the swift hours o' love. 



J 



216 THE BONIE BLINK ' MABT'S ES. 

She is not the fairest, altho' she is fair ; 
O' nice education but sma' is her share ; 
Her parentage humble as humble can be, 
But I lo'e the dear lassie because she loe's me. 

To beauty what man but maun yield him a prize. 
In her armour of glances, and blushes, and sighs ? 
And when wit and refinement hae polish'd her darts. 
They dazzle our een, as they fly to our hearts. 

But kindness, sweet kindness, in the fond sparkling ee^ 
Has lustre outshining the diamond to me ; 
And the heart-beating love, as I'm clasped in her arms, 
O, these are my lassie's all-conquering charms ! 



n 



WHA IS THAT AT MY 
BOWER DOOR ? 

Wha is that at my bower door ? 

O wha is it but Findlay ; 
Then gae your gate, ye'se nae be here ! 

Indeed maun I, quo' Findlay. 
What mak ye sae like a thief ? 

O come and see, quo' Ffndlay ; 
Before the morn ye' 11 work mischief ; 

Indeed will I, quo' Findlay. 

Gif I rise and let you in ; 

Let me in, quo' Findlay ; 
Ye'll keep me waukin wi' your din ; 

Indeed will I, quo' Findlay. 
In my bower if ye should stay ; 

Let me stay, quo' Findlay ; 
I fear ye'll bide till break o' day ; 

Indeed will I, quo' Findlay. 

Here this night if ye remain ; 

I'll remain, quo' Findlay ; 
I dread ye'll learn the gate again ; 

Indeed will I, quo' Findlay, 
What may pass witliin this bower — 

Let it pass, quo' Findlay ; 
\Ye maun conceal till your last hour ; 
^ Indeed will I, quo' Findlay. 

FAREWELL TO NANCY. 

Ae fond kiss, and then we sever ! 

Ae fareweel, alas, for ever ! 

Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge 

thee. 
Warring sighs and groans I'll wage 

thee. 
Who shall say that fortune grieves him 
While the star of hope she leaves him ? 
Me, nae cheerf u' twinkle lights me, 
park despair around benights me. 



I'll ne'er blame my partial fancy, 
Naething could resist my Nancy ; 
But to see her, was to love her ; 
Love but her, and love forever. 
Had we never lov'd sae kindly, 
Had we never lov'd sae blindly, 
Never met — or never parted, 
We had ne'er been broken hearted. 

Fare thee weel, thou first and fairest ! 
Fare thee weel, thou best and dearest 1 
Thine be ilka joy and treasure, 
Peace, enjoyment, love, and pleasure. 
Ae fond kiss, and then we sever ; 
Ae fareweel, alas, for ever ! 
Deep in heart-wrung tears I pledge 

thee. 
Warring sighs and groans I'll wage 

thee. 



THE BONIE BLINK O' 
MARY'S EE. 

Now bank an'brae are claith'd in green 

An'scatter'd cowslips sweetly spring, 
By Girvan's Fairy haunted stream 

The birdies flit on wanton wing. 
To Cassillis' banks when e'ening fa's 

There wi' my Mary let me flee. 
There catch her ilka glance o' love. 

The bonie blink o Mary's ee ! 

The child wha boasts o' warld's wealth, 

Is aften laird o' meikle care; 
But Mary, she is a' my ain, 

Ah, fortune canna gio me mair ! 
Then let me range by Cassillis" banks, 

Wi' her the lassie dear to me. 
And catch her ilka glance o' love, 

Thb bonnie blink o' Mary's ee I 



BANK8 OF DEVOS. 



ni 



DVT OVER THE FORTH. 

vtUT over the Forth I look to the 
north, 
Bill what is the north and its High- 
lands to me ? 
The south nor the east gie ease to my 
breast, 
The far foreign land, or the wild 
roiling sea. 

But I look to the west, when I gae to 
rest, 
That happy my dreams and ray 
slumbers may be ; 
For far in the west, lives he I lo'e 
best. 
The lad that is dear to my babie 
and me. 



THE BONIE LAD THAT'S 
FAR AWAY. 

Tune—" Owre the hills and far away." 

O HOW can I be blithe and glad. 
Or how can I gang brisk and braw, 

When the bonie lad that I lo'e best 
Is o'er the hills and far awa ? 

It's no the frosty winter wind, 

It's no the driving drift and snaw ; 

But ay the tear comes in my ee. 
To think on him that's far awa. 

My father pat me f rae his door. 
My friends they hae disown'd me a'; 

But I hae ane will tak my part, 
The bonie lad that's far awa, 

A pair o' gloves he gae to me. 

And silken snoods he gae me twa ; 

And I will wear them for his sake. 
The bonie lad that's far awa. 



The weary winter soon will pass, 
And spring will deed the birken- 
shaw : 

And my sweet babie will be born, ' 
And he'll come hame that's far awa. 

THE GOWDEN LOCKS OV 

ANNA. 

Tune — " Banks of Banna." 
Yestreen I had a pint o' wine, 

A place where body saw na' ; 
Yestreen lay on this breast o' mine 

The gowden locks of Anna. 
The hungry Jew in wilderness 

Rejoicing o'er his manna. 
Was naething to my hinny bliss 

Upon the lips of Anna. 

Ye monarchs, tak the east and west, 

I'rae Indus to Savannah ! 
Gie me within my straining grasp 

The melting form of Anna. 
There I'll despise imperial charms. 

An Empress or Sultana, 
While dying raptures in her arms, 

I give and take with Anna ! 

Awa, thou flaunting god o' day 1 

Awa, thou pale Diana ! 
Ilk star gae hide thy twinkling ray 

When I'm to meet my Anna. 
Come, in thy raven plumage, night, 

Sun, moon, and stars withdrawn a"; 
And bring an angel pen to write 

My transports wi' my Anna ! 

POSTSCKIPT. 

The kirk and state may join, and tell 

To do such things I mauna : 
The kirk and state may gae to hell, 

And I'll gae to my Anna. 
She is the sunshine o' my ee. 

To live but her I canna ; 
Had I on earth but wishes three. 

The first should be my Anna. 



BANKS OF DEVON. 

How pleasant the banks of the clear winding Devon, 

With green-spreading bushes, and flowers blooming fair 1 

But the boniest flower on the banks of the Devon 
Was once a sweet bud on the braes of the Ayr, 



Si6 



STREAMS TSAT GLtDS. 



Mild be the suu on this sweet blushing flower, 
In the gay rosy morn as it bathes in the dew I 

And gentle the fall of the soft vernal shower. 
That steals on the evening each leaf to renew. 

O, spare the dear blossom, ye orient breezes. 
With chill hoary wing as ye usher the dawn ! 

And far be thou distant, thou reptile that seizes 
The verdure and pride of the garden and lawn ^ 

Let Bourbon exult in his gay gilded lilies. 
And England triumphant display her proud rose ; 
A fairerlhan either adorns the green valleys 
Where Devon, sweet Devon, meandering flows. 



ADOWN WINDING NITH. 

Tune—" The muckin o' Gordie's byre." 

Adown winding Nith I did wander. 
To mark the sweet flowers as they 
spring ; 

Adown winding Nith I did wander, 
Of Phillis to muse and to sing. 

CHORUS. 

Awa wi' your belles and your beauties. 
They never wi' her can compare : 

Whaever has met wi' my Phillis, 
Has met wi' the (jueen o' the fair. 

The daisy amus'd my fond fancy. 
So artless, so simple, so wild ; 

Thou emblem, said I, o' my Phillis, 
For she is Simplicity's child. 
Awa, etc. 

The rose-bud's the blush o' my 
charmer, 
Her sweet balmy lip when 'tis prest : 
How fair and how pure is the lily, 
But fairer and purer her breast. 
Awa, etc. 

Yon knot of gay flowers in the arbour. 
They ne'er wi' my Phillis can vie : 
Her breath is the breath of the wood- 
bine, 
Its dew-drop o' diamond, her eye. 
Awa, etc. 

5er voice is the song of the morning 
That wakes through the green- 
spreading grove 
4/Vhen Pha^bus peeps over the moun- 
tains, 
On music, and pleasure, and love. 
Awa, etc- 



But beauty how frail and how fleeting^ 
The bloom of a tine summer's day I 

While worth in the mind o' my Phillis 
Will flourish without a deca>. 
Awa, etc. 



STREAMS THAT GLIDE. 

Tune— "Morag." 

Str?:ams that glide in orient plains. 
Never bound by winter's chains ! 
Glowiug here on golden sands. 
There commix'd with foulest stains 
From tyranny's empurpled bands : 
These, their richly gleaming waves, 
I leave to tyrants and their slaves ; 
Give me the stream that sweetly laves 
The banks by Castle Gordon, 

Spicy forests, ever gay. 
Shading from the burning ray 
Hapless wretches sold to toil, 
Or the ruthless native's way. 
Bent on slaughter, blood, and spoil i 
Woods that ever verdant wave, 
I leave the tyrant and the slave. 
Give me the groves that lofty brave 
The storms, by Castle Gordon. 

Wildly here without control. 
Nature reigns and rules the whole ; 
In that sober pensive mood. 
Dearest to the feeling soul. 
She plants the forest, pours the flood ; 
Life's poor day I'll musing rave, 
And find at night a sheltering cave, 
Where waters flow and wild woods 
wave. 
By bonie Castle Gordon. 



WHERE ABE fHE JOtS. 



M 



THE DEIL'S AWA' WI' THE 
EXCISEMAN. 

The Deil cam fiddling thro' the town, 
And dauc'd awa wi' the Exciseman; 

And ilka wife ciy'd " Auld Malioun, 
We wish you luck o' your prize, 
man. 

** We'll mak our maui, and brew 
our drink, 
Well dance, and sing, and re- 
joice, man ; 
And monie thanks to the muckle 
black De'il 
That danc'd awa wi' the Excise- 
man. 

" There's threesome reels, and four- 
some reels, 
There's hornpipes and strathspeys, 
man ; 
But the ae best dance e'er cam to our 
Ian', 
Was — the De'il's awa wi' the Excise- 
man. 
We'll mak our maut." etc, 

BLITHE HAE I BEEN ON 
YON HILL. 

Tune — "Liggeram cosh." 
Blithe hae I been on yon hill, 

As the lambs before me ; 
Careless ilka thought and free. 

As the breeze flew o'er me : 
Now nae langer sport and play, 

Mirth or sang can please me ; 
Lesley is sae fair and coy, 

Care and anguish seize me, 

Heavy, heavy is the task, 

Hopeless love declaring : 
Trembling, I dow nocht but glowr, 

Sighing, dumb, despairing ! 
K she winna ease the thraws 

In my bosom swelling, 
Underneath the grass-green sod 

Soon maun be my dwelling. 



O WERE MY LOVE YON 
LILAC FAIR 

Tune—" Hugliie Graham." 

O WEKE my love yon lilac fair, 
Wi' purple blossoms to the spring j 

And I, a bird to shelter there. 
When wearied on my little wing ; 

How I wad mourn, when it was torn 
By autumn wild and winter rude ! 

•But I wad sing on wanton wing. 
When youthfu' May its bloom re 
new'd. 

O gin my love were yon red rose 
That grows upon the castle wa'. 

And I mysel' a drap o' dew. 
Into her bonie breast to fa' I 

Oh, there beyond expression blest. 
Id feast on beauty a' the night • 

Seal'd on her silk-saft faulds to resb. 
Till fley'd awa' by Phoebus' light. 



COME, LET ME TAKE 
THEE. 

Tune—" Cauld kail." 

Come, let me take thee to my breast, 

And pledge we ne'er shall sunder , 
And I shall spurn as vilest dust 

The warld's wealth and grandeur : 
And do I hear my Jeanie own 

That equal transports move her ? 
I ask for dearest life alone 

That I may live to love her. 

Thus in my arms wi' all thy charms, 

I clasp my countless treasure ; 
I'll seek na mair o' heaven to share, 

Than sic a moment's pleasure : 
And by thy een, sae bonie blue, 

I swear I'm thine forever ! 
And on thy lips I seal my vow. 

And break it shall I never. 



WHERE ARE THE JOYS. 

Tune—" Saw ye my Father ? " 
Where are the joys I have met in the morning. 

That danc'd to the lark's early sang ? 
Where is the peace that awaited my wand'ring. 

At evening the wild woods amang ? 



M 



MY GHLORIS. 



No more a-winding the course of yon river. 

And marking sweet flowrets so fair : 
No more I trace the light footsteps of pleasure. 
But sorrow and sad sighing care. 

Is it that summer's forsaken our valleys, 

And grim, surly winter is near ? 
No, no, the bees humming round the gay rose«. 

Proclaim it the pride of the year. 

Fain would I hide what I fear to discover. 
Yet long, long too well have I known : 

All that has caus'd this wreck in my bosom. 
Is Jennie, fair Jenny alone. 

Time cannot aid me, my griefs are immortal. 

Nor hope dare a comfort bestow ; 
Come, then, enamour'd and fond of my anguish. 

Enjoyment I'll seek in my woe. 



O SAW YE MY DEAR. 

Tune— "When she cam ben s'he bobbit." 
O SAW ye my dear, my Phely ? 
C) saw ye my dear, my Phely ? 
She's down i' the grove, she's wi' * 
new love, 
She wiuna come home to her Willy» 

What saj^s she, my dearest Phely ? 
What says she, my dearest, Phely ? 
She lets thee to wit that she has thee 
forgot. 
And forever disowns thee her Willy. 

O had I ne'er seen thee, my Phely I 
O had I ne'er seen thee, my Phely ! 
As light as the air, and fause as thou's 
fair, 
Thou'st broken the heart o' thy 
Willy, 

THOU HAST LEFT ME 
EVER, JAMIE. 

Tune — " Fee him, father." 

Thou hast left me ever, Jamie, 

Thou hast left me ever ; 
Thou hast left me ever, Jamie, 

Thou hast left me ever. 
Aften hast thou vowed that death 

Only should us sever ; 
Now thou'st left thy lass for aye — 

I maun see thee never, Jamie, 
I'll see thee never 1 



Thou hast me forsaken, Jamie, 

Thou hast me forsaken ; 
Thou hast me forsaken, Jamie, 

Thou hast me forsaken. 
Thou canst love anither jo, 

While my heart is breaking ; 
Soon my weary een I'll close — 

Never mair to waken, Jamiu, 
Ne'er mair to waken 1 



MY CHLORIS. 

Tune— "My lodging is on the cold ground.* 

My Chloris, mark how green the 
groves, 

The primrose banks how fair : 
The balmy gales awake the flowers. 

And wave thy flaxen hair. 

The lav'rock shuns the pa/ace gay. 

And o'er the cottnge sings : 
For Nature smiles as sweet, I ween. 

To shepherds as to kings. 

Let minstrels sweep the skillfu' string » 
In lordly lighted ha' : I 

The shepherd stops his simple reed, 
Blythe, in the birken shaw. 

The princely revel may survey 
Our rustic dance wi' scorn ; 

But are their hearts as light ac ours 
Beneath the milk-white Ikora f 



I 



PHILLT. 



file shepherd, in the flowery glen, 
In shepherd's phrase will woo : 

The courtier tells a finer tale, 
But is his heart as true ? 

These wild-wood flowers I've pu'd, to 
deck 
That spotless breast o' thine : 
The courtier's gems may witness 
love — 
But 'tis na love like mine. 



CHARMING MONTH OF 
MAY. 

Tune—'' Dainty Davie." 

It was the charming month of May, 
When all the flowers were fresh and 

One morning, by the break of day, 
The youthful, charming Chloe ; 

From peaceful slumber she arose. 
Girt on her mantle and her hose, 
And o'er the flowery mead she goes. 
The youthful, charming Chloe. 

CHORUS. 

Lovely was she by the dawn, 
Youthful Chloe, charming Chloe, 

Tripping o'er the pearly lawn, 
The youthful, charming Chloe. 

The feather'd people you might see 
Perch'd all around on every tree,. 
In notes of sweetest melody, 
They hail the charming Chloe ; 

Till, painting gay the eastern skies. 
The glorious sun began to rise, 
Out-rival'd by the radiant eyes 
Of jouthful, charming Chloe. 
Lovely was she, &c. 



LET NOT WOMAN EVER 
COMPLAIN. 

Tune— ''Duncan Gray." 

Let not woman e'er complain 

Of inconstancy in love, 
Let not woman e'er complain, 

jFicj^le roan is apt to jrpv^ : 



Look abroad through Kature*s range, 
Nature's mighty law is change ; 

Ladies, would it not be strange, 
Man should then a monster prove ? 

Mark the winds, and mark the skies ; 

Ocean's ebb, and ocean's flow : 
Sun and moon but set to rise, 

liound and round the seasons go. 

Why then ask of silly man. 

To oppose great Nature's plan ? 

We'll be constant while we can — ■" 
You can be no more, you know. 



O PHILLY. 

Tune—" Tiie sow's tail." 
HE. 

O Philly, happy be that day 
When, roving thro' the gather'd hay. 
My youthfu' heart was stown away, 
And by thy charms, my Philly. 

SHE. 

O Willy, aye I bless the grove 
Where first I owri'd my maiden love. 
Whilst thou didst pledge the Powers 
above 
To be my ain dear Willy. 

HE. 

As songsters of the early year 
Are ilka day mair sweet to hear. 
So ilka day to me mair dear 
And charming is my Philly. 

SHE. 

As on the brier the budding rose 
Still richer breathes and fairer blows, ' 
So in my tender bosom grows * 

The love I bear my Willy. 

HE. 

The milder sun and bluer sky. 
That crown my harvest cares wi' joy. 
Were ne'er sae welcome to my eye 
As is the sight o' Philly. 



The little swallow's wanton wing, 
Tho' wafting o'er the flowery spring. 
Did ne'er to me sic tidings bring 
As meeting o' mj Wilfy. 



222 



JOHN BARLEYCORN. 



HE. 



The bee that thro' the sunny hour 
Sips nectar in the opening flower, 
Compar'd wi' my delight is poor, 
Upon the lips o' Philly. 



The woodbine in the dewy weet 
When evening shades in silence meet 
Is nocht sac fragrant or sae sweet 
As is a kiss o' Willy. 



Let fortune's wheel at random rin, 
And fools may tyne, and knaves may 

win ; 
]My thoughts are a' bound up in ane, 
And that's my ain dear Philly. 

SILE, 

What's a' the jo; s than gowd can gie ! 
I care na wealth -. single tiie ; 
The lad I love's uie lad for me, 
And that's my ain dear Willy. 



JOHN BARLEYCORK 

A BALLAD. 

TnhJKE was three Kings into the east. 
Three Kings both great and high. 

And they hae sworn a solemn oath 
John Barleycorn should die. 

They took a plough and plough'd him 
down, 

Put clods upon his head, 
And i\\Qj hae sworn a solemn oath 

John Barleycorn was dead. 

But the cheerful spring came kindly 
on, 

And show'rs began to fall ; 
John Barleycorn got up again. 

And sore surpris'd them all. 

The sultry suns of summer came, 
And he grew thick and strong. 

His head weel arm'd wi' pointed spears, 
That no one should him wrong. 

The sober Autumn enter'd mild. 
When he grew wan and pale ; 



His bending joints and drooping head 
Show'd he began to fail. 

His colour sicken'd more and more, 

He faded into age ; 
And then his enemies began 

To shew their deadly rage. 

They've ta'en a weapon, long and 
sharp. 

And cut' him by the knee ; 
Then tied him fast upon a cart. 

Like a rogue for forgerie. 

They laid him down upon his back, 
And cudgeil'd him full sore ; 

They hung him up before the storm, 
x\nd turn'd him o'er and o'er. 

They filled up a darksome pit 

With water to the brim, 
They heaved in John Barleycorn, 

There let him sink or swim. 

They laid him out upon the floor. 
To w^ork liim farther woe. 

And still, as signs of life appear'd. 
They toss'd him to and fro. 

They wasted, o'er a scorching flame, 

The marrow of his bones ; 
But a miller us'd him worst of all, 

For he crush'd him between two 
stones. 

And they hae ta'en his very hearts 
blood. 
And drank it round and round ; 
And still the more and more they 
drank. 
Their joy did more abound. 

John Barleycorn was a hero bold, 

Of noble enterprise. 
For if you do but taste his blood, 

'Twill make your courage rise ; 

'Twill make a man forget his w^oe ; 

'Twill heighten all his joy : 
'Twill make the widow's heart to sing„ 

Tho' the tear were in her eye. 



Then let us toast John Barleycorn 
Each man a glass in hand ; 

And may his great posterity 
Ne'er fail in old Scotland I 



II 



WHEN GUILFORD GOOD OUR PILOT STOOD. 



223 



CANST THOU LEAVE ME 
THUS ? 

Tune— "Roy's Wife." 
Canst thou leave me thus, my Katy ? 
Canst thou leave me thus, my Katy ? 
Well thou kuow'st my aching heart, 
And canst thou leave me thus for pity ? 

Is this thy plighted, fond regard, 
Thus cruelly to part, my Katy ? 

Is this thy faitliful swain's reward-^ 
An aching, broken heart, my Katy ? 
Canst thou, &c. 

Farewell ! and ne'er such sorrows tear 

That fickle heart of thine, my Katy ! 

Thou may'st find those will love thee 

dear — 

But not a love like mine, my Katy. 

Canst thou, &c. 

ON CHLORIS BEING ILL. 

Tune—" Aye waukin o." 
Long, long the night. 

Heavy comes the morrow. 
While my soul's delight 

Is on her bed of sorrow. 

Can I cease to care. 
Can I cease to languish, 

While my darling fair 
Is on the couch of anguish ? 
Long, &c. 

Every hope is fled. 
Every fear is terror ; 

Slumber e'en I dread. 
Every dream is horror. 
Long, &c. 

Hear me, Pow'rs divine ! 

Oh, in pity hear me ! 
Take aught else of mine, 

But my Chloris spare me I 
Long, &c. 

WHEN GUILFORD GOOD 
OUR PILOT STOOD. 

A FRAGMENT. 

Tune—" Gillicrankie." 
When Guilford good our Pilot stood, 

An' did our hellim thraw, man, 
Ae night, at tea, began a plea, 

Wiihin America^ man : 



Then up they gat the maskin-pat, 
And in the sea did jaw, man ; 

An' did nae less, in full Congress, 
Than quite refuse our law, man. 

Then thro' the lakes Montgomery 
takes, 

I wat he was na slaw, man ; 
Down Lowrie's burn he took a turn. 

And Carleton did ca', man : 
But yet, what-reck, he, at Quebec, 

Montgomery-like did fa', man, 
Wi' sword in hand, before his band, 

Amang his en'mies a', man. 

Poor Tammy Gage, witliin a cage 

Was kept at Boston hi', man ; 
Till Willie How^e took o'6|- the knowe 

For Philadelphia, man : 
Wi' sword an' gun, he thought a sin 

Gnid Christian bluid to draw, man, 
But at New York, wi' knife an' fork. 

Sir Loin he hacked sma', man. 

Burgoyne gaed up, like spur an' whip, 

Till Eraser brave did fa', man ; 
Then lost his way, ae misty day. 

In Saratoga shaw, man. 
Cornwallis fought as lang'she dought, 

An' did the Buckskins claw, man ; 
But Clinton's glaive f rae rust to save. 

He hung it to the wa', man. 

Then Montague, an' Guilford too, 

Began to fear a fa', man ; 
And Sackville doure, wha stood tho 
stoure. 

The German Chief to thraw, man *. 
For Paddy Burke, like ony Turk. 

Nae mercy had at a', man ; 
An' Charlie Fox threw by the box, 

An' lows'd his tinkler jaw, man. 

Then Rockingham took up the game j 

Till death did on liim ca', man ; 
When Shelburne meek held up his 
cheek, 

Conform to gospel law, man ; 
Saint Stephen's boys, wi' jarring noiso> 

They did his measures thraw man. 
For North and Fox united stocks, 

An' bore him to the wa', man. 

Then Clubs an' Hearts were Charlie's 
cartes, 
He swept the stakes awa', man. 



224 



MT NANNIE, 0. 



Till the Diamond's Ace, of Indian race, 
Led him a sair faux pas, man : 

The Saxon lads, wi' loud placads, 
On Chatham's boy did ca', man ; 

An' Scotland drew her pipe, an' blew, 
" Up, Willie, waur them a' man ! " 

Behind the throne then Grenville's 
gone 

A secret word or twa, man ; 
While slee Dundas arous'd the class 

Be-north the Roman wa', man ; 
An' Chatham's wraith,- in heavenly 
graith, 

(Inspired Bardie's saw, man,) 
Wi' kindling eyes cry 'd, " Willie, rise I 

Would I hac feard them a', man ! " 

But, word and blow, North, Fox an' Co. 

Gowft'd AVillie like a ba', man, 
Till Suthron raise, an' coost their claise 

Behind him in a raw, man ; 
An" Caledon threw by the drone, 

An' did her whittle draw, man ; 
An' swoorf u' rude, thro' dirt an' blood, 

To make it guid in law, nian. 



THE RIGS O' BARLEY. 

Tune—" Corn riss are bonie." 
It was upon a Lammas night, 

When the corn rigs are bonie. 
Beneath the moon's unclouded light, 

I held awa to Annie : 
The time flew by, wi' tentless heed, 

Till 'tween the late and early, 
Wi' sma' persuasion she agreed. 

To see me thro' the barley. 

The sky was blue, the wind was still, 

The moon was shining clearly ; 
1 set her down, wi' right good will, 

Amaug the rigs o' barley ; 
I ken't her heart was a' my ain ; 

I lov'd her most sincerely ; 
I kiss d her owre and owre again 

Amang the rigs o' barley. 

I lock'd her in my fond embrace ; 

Her heart was beating rarciy ; 
My blessings on that happy place, 

Amang the rigs o' barley ! 
But by the moon and stars so bright, 

That shone t2:achour so clearly ! 
She ay snail bless that happy night 

Amang tlie ri^s p' l)a.rlpy. 



I hae been blythe wi' comrades dear j 

I hae been merry di inking ; 
I hae been joyf u' gath'rin gear -, 

I hae been happy thinking : 
But a' the pleasures e'er I saw, 

Tho' three times doubl'd fairly. 
That happy night was worth them a' 

Amang the rigs o' barley 

CHORUS. 

Corn rigs, an' barley rigs. 
An' corn rigs are bonie : 

I'll ne'er forget that happy night 
Amang the rigs wi Annie. 

FAREWELL TO ELIZA. 

Tune—" Gilderoy." 

Feom thee, Eliza, I must go. 

And from my native shore ; 
The cruel fates between us throw 

A boundless ocean's roar : 
But boundless oceans, roaring wide. 

Between my Love and me. 
They never, never can divide 

My heart and soul from thee. 

Farewell, farewell, Eliza dear, 

The maid that I adore ! 
A boding voice is in mine ear, 

We part to meet iic more ! 
But the last throb ihat leaves my liear£. 

While deatli stands victor by. 
That throb, Eliza, is thy part. 

And tbine that latest si":h 1 



MY NANIE, O. 

Behind you hills where Stinchas 
flows, 

'Mang moors an' mosses many, O, 
The wintry sun the day has clos'd. 

And I'll awa' to Nanie, O. 

The westlin wind blaws loud an'shill ; 

The night's baith mirk and rainy, O: 
But I'll get my plaid, an' out I'll steal. 

An' owre the hill to Nanie, O. 

My Nanie's charming, sweet, an 
young : 

Nae artfu' wiles to win ye, O : 
M^ay ill befa' the flattering tongue 

TJbiat wad beguile mj Naiw, Q» 



N^OW WE8TLIN WIND 8. 



22li 



Her face is fair, her heart is true, 
As spotless as she's bonie, O : 

The op'ning gowan, wat wi' dew, 
Isae purer is than Nauie, O. 

A country lad is my degree, 

An' few there be that ken me, O ; 

But what care I how few there be, 
I'm welcome aye to Nanie, O. 

My riches a's my penny-fee, 
An' I maun guide it cannie, O : 

But warl's gear ne'er troubles me. 
My thoughts are a', my Nanie, O! 

Our auld Guidman delights to view 
His sheep an' kye thrive bonie, O. 

But I'm as blythe that hands his 
pleugh. 
An' has nae care but Nanie, O . 

Come weel, come woe, I care na by, 
I'll tak what Heav'n will send me, O; 

Nae ither care in life have I. 
But live, an' love my Nanie, O. 

GREEIT GROW THE 
RASHES. 

A FRAGMENT. 
CHORUS. 

Green grow the rashes, O ; 

Green grow the rashes, O , 
The sweetest hours that e'er I spend, 

Are spent among the lasses, O ! 

There's nought but care on ev'ry han', 
In ev'ry hour that passes, O ; 

What signifies the life o' man. 
An' 'were na for the lasses, O. 
Green grow, &c. 

The wai'ly race may riches chnse, 
An' riches still may fly them, O ; 

Av' tho at last they catch them fast, 
Their hearts can ne'er enjoy them, 0. 
Green grow, &c. 

But gie me a canny hour at e'en, 
My arms abou<; my dearie, O ; 

A*.' warly cares, an' warly men. 
May a' gae tapsalteerie, O ! 
Green gro' ', &c. 

For you ^^e '' ouse, ye sneer at this, 
Ye're nought but senseless asses, : 

The ^^ isest man the warl' saw, 
He d( arly lov'd the lasses, O, 
Greeukrow &c. 



Auld Nature swears, the lovely deaifii 
Her noblest work she classes, O ; 

Her prentice han' she tried on man, 
An' then she made the lasses, O. 
Green grow, &c, 

NOW WESTLIN WINDS, 

Tune—" I had a horse, I had nao mair." 
Now westlin winds and slaught' ring 
guns 

Bring autumn's pleasant wesither ; 
The moorcock springs on whirring^ 

, wings, 

Amang the blooming heather : 
Now waving grain, wide o'er the plain^ 

Delights the weary farmer ; 
And the moon shines bright, when \ 
rove at night 

To muse upon my charmer. 

The partridge loves the fruitful fells ^ 

The plover loves the mountains ; 
The woodcock loves the lonely dells . 

The soaring hern the fountains : 
Thro' lofty groves the cushat roves. 

The path of man to shun it ; 
The hazel bush o'erhangs the thrush. 

The spreading thorn the linnet. 

Thus ev'ry kind their pleasiu'e And, 

The savage and the tender ; 
Some social join, and leagues combine; 

Some solitary wander : 
Avaunt, away ! the cruel sway. 

Tyrannic man's dominion ; 
The sportsman's joy, the murd'ring 
cry. 

The flutt'ring, gory pinion ! 

But, Peggy dear, the ev'ning's clear, 

Thick flies the skimming swallow j 
The sky is blue, the fields in view, 

All fading-green and yellow • 
Come let us stray our gladsome way, 

And view the charnis of nature ; 
The rustling corn, the fruited thorn, 

And ev'ry happy creature. 

We'll gently walk, and sweetly talk, 

Till the silent moon shine clearly , 
I'll grasp thy waist, and, fondly prest, 

Swear how I love thee dearly : 
Not vernal show'rs to budding flow'rs, 

Not autunm to the farmer, 
So clear can be, as thou to me, 

My fair, my lovely charmer ! 



226 FAREWELL TO HIS NATIVE COUNTRT. 

THE BIG-BELLIED BOTTTLE. 

Tune—" Prepare, my dear brethren, to the tavern let's fly.*' 

No churchman am I for to rail and to write. 
No statesman nor soldier to plot or to fight, 
No sly man of business contriving a snare, 
For a big-belly'd bottle's the whole of my care. 

The peer I don't envy, I give him his bow ; 

I scorn not the peasant, tho' ever so low ; 

But a club of good fellows, like those that are there. 

And a bottle like this, are my glory and care. 

Here passes the squire on his brother— a horse ; 
There centum per centum, the cit with his purse ; 
But see you the Crown how it waves in the air, 
There a big-belly'd bottle still eases my care. 

The wife of my bosom, alas ! she did die ; 
For sweet consolation to church I did fly ; 
I found that old Solomon proved it fair, 
That the big-belly'd bottle's a cure for all care. 

I once was persuaded a venture to make ; 
A letter informed me that all was to wreck ; 
But the pursy old landlord just waddled up stairs, 
With a glorious bottle that ended my cares. 

" Life's cares they are comforts," a maxim laid down 
By the bard, what d'ye call him, that wore the black gowB, 
And, faith, I agree wi' the old prig to a hair. 
For a big-belly'd bottle's a heav'n of a care. 

A STANZA ADDED m A MASON'S LODGE. 

Then fill up a bumper, and make it o'erflow, 
And honours masonic prepare for to throw ; 
May every true brother of the compass and square 
Have a big-belly'd bottle when harass'd with care. 

THE AUTHOR'S FAHE- Across her placid, azure sky, 

WELL TO HIS NATIVE ^^^? ^^^^ ^^^^ scowling tempest fly : 

pmTXr''I^'RV Chill runs my blood to hear it rave, 

^w u IM n 1 . J ^j^j^j^ yp^^j^ ^j^^. stormy wave. 

Tune— "Roslin Castle." Where many a danger t must dar^ 

The gloomy night is gath'ring fast, Far fi'om the bonie banks of Ayr. 
iioud ro;'.rs the wild inconstant blast, ,rt^^ . .-, • i -n > 

Ton murk V cloud is foul with rain, . ,^ .^is no the surging bdlow s roar. 

I see it driving o'er the plain ; ^is not that tatal, deadly shore ; 

The hunter nSw has left the i^ioor, ^ho death m ev ry shape appear, 

The scattered covevs meet secure, ^^f wretclied have no more to fear : 

While here I wander, prest with care, ^^^ round my heart the ties are 

Along the lonely banks of Ayr. m . i, I . ' • -i -n 

® -^ ■^ That heart transpierc d with many a 

The Autumn mourns her rip'ning wound ; 

corn These bleed afresh, those ties I tear. 

By early Winter's ravage torn ; To leave the booie banks of Ayi*. 



* 1 



AND MA UN I STILL ON MENIE BOAT, 



S,*" 7 



Farewell, old Coila's hills and dales, 

Her healthy moors and winding vales ; 

The scenes where wretched fancy- 
roves. 

Pursuing past, unhappy loves ! 

Farewell, my friends ! Farewell, my 
foes ! 

My peace with these, my love with 
those — 

The bursting tears my heart declare, 

Farewell, the bonie banks of Ayr. 



THE FAREWELL. 

TO THE BRETHREN OF ST. JAMES'S LODGE, 
TARBOLTON, 

Tune—" Guid night, and joy be wi' you a'." 

Adieu ! a heart-warm, fond adieu ! 

Dear brothers of the mystic tie I 
Ye favor'd, ye enlighten'd fevv% 

Companions of my social joy ! 
Tho' I to foreign lands must hie. 

Pursuing Fortune's slidd'ry ba', 
With melting heart and brimful eye, 

I'll mind you still, tho' far awa'. 

Oft have I met your social band. 
And spent the cheerful, festive 
night ; 
Cft, honour'd with supreme com- 
mand, 
Presided o'er the sons of light : 
And by that hieroglyphic bright. 
Which none but craftsmen ever 
saw ! 
8trong mem'ry on my heart shall 
write 
Those happy scenes when far awa'! 

May freedom, harmony and love, 

Unite you in the grand design. 
Beneath th' Omniscient eye above. 

The glorious Architect Divine ! 
That you may keep the unerring line, 

Still rising by the plummet's law, 
Till order bright completely shine. 

Shall be my pray'r when far awa'. 

And You, farewell ! whose merits 
claim, 
Justly, that highest badge to wear 1 
Heav'n bless your honour'd, noble 
name, 
To Masonry aud Scotia dear I 



A last request permit me herC; 

When yearly ye assemble a", 
One round, I ask it with a tear, 

To him, the Bard that's far 8\va . 

AND MAUN I STILL ON 
MENIE DOAT. 

Tune— " Jockie's grey breeko." 

Again rejoicing natui^e sees . 

Her robe assume its vernal hues, 
Her leafy locks wave in the breeze, 

All freshly steeped in morning 
dews. 

CHORUS. 

And maun I still on Menie doat. 
And bear the scorn that's in htr o'e ? 

For it's jet, jet black, an' its like a 
hawk. 
An' it winna let a body be ! 

In vain to me the cowslips blaw, 
In vain to me the vi'lets spring . 

In vain to me, in glen or shaw, 
The mavis and the lintwhite sing. 
And maun I still, &c. 

The merry ploughboy cheers his team. 

Wi' joy the tentie seedsman stalks, 
But life to me's a weary dream, 

A dream of ane that never wanks 
And maun I still, &c. 

The wanton coot the water skims, 
Amang the reeds the ducklings cry, 

The stately swan majestic swims. 
And everything is blest but I. 
And maun I still, &c. 

The sheep-herd steeks his faulding 
slap, 
And owa-e the moorlands whistles 
shill, 
Wi' wild, unequal, wand'ring step, 
I meet him on the dewy hill. 
And maun I still, &c. 

And when the lark, 'tween light and 
dark, 
Blythe waukens by the daisy's side, 
And mounts and sings on flittering 
wings, 
A woe- worn ghaist I hameward 
glide. 
And mauo I still, &a 



228 



BANNOCKBURN. 



Come winter with thine angry howl. 
And raging bend the naked tree ; 

Thy gloom will soothe my cheerless 
soul, 
When Nature all is sad like me ! 

And maun I still on Menie doat, 
And bear the scorn that's in her 
e'e ? 
For it's jet, jet black, an' it's like 
a hawk, 
An' it winna let a body be ! 

HIGHLAND MARY. 

Tune— "Katharine Ogie." 
Ye banks and braes, and streams 
around 
The castle o' Montgomery, 
Green be j^our woods, and fair your 
flowers, 
Your waters never druralie ! 
There simmer first unfauld her robes, 

And there the laugest tarry ; 

For there I took the last fareweel 

O' my sweet Highland JMary. 

How sweetly bloom'd the gay green 
birk, 

How rich the hawthorn's blossom, 
As underneath their fragrant shade 

I clasp'd her to my bosom ! 
The golden hours, on angel wings. 

Flew o'er me and my dearie ; 
For dear to me as light and life. 

Was my sweet Highland Mary. 

Wi' monie a vow, and lock'd em- 
brace, 

Our parting wns f u' tender ; 
And pledging aft to meet again, 

We tore ourselves asunder ; 
But oh ! fell death's untimely frost. 

That nipped my flower sae early ! 
Now green's the sod, and cauld's the 
clay. 

That wraps my Highland Mary, 

O pale, pale now, those rosy lips, 

I aft hae kiss'd sae fondly ! 
Apd closed for ay the sparkling 
glance, 

That dwelt on me sae kindly ! 
And mould'ring now in silent dust 

That heart that lo'ed me dearly ! 
But still within my bosom's cor^ 

Shall live my Highland Mary, 



AULD LANG SYNE. 

Should auld acquaintance be forgot. 

And never brought to niin' ? 
Should auld acquaintance oe forgot, 

And days o' lang syne ? 

CHORUS. 

For auld lang syne, my dear, 

For auld lang syne, 
We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet, 

For auld lang syne. 

We twa hae run about the braes. 

And pu'd the gowans fine ; 
But we've wander'd mouy a weary 
foot 
Sin auld lang syne. 
For auld, &c. 

We twa hae paidl't i' the burn, 
From morning sun till dine ; 

But seas between us braid hae roar'd 
Sin auld lang syne. 
For auld, &c. 

And here's a hand, my trusty fiere, 

And gie's a hand o' thine ; 
And wj'll tak a right guid wiUie- 
waught, 
For auld lang syne. 
For auld, &c. 
And surely ye'll be your pint-siowp» 

And surely I'll be mine ; 
And we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet 
For auld lang syne. 
For auld, &c. 

BANNOCKBURN. 

EGBERT BRUCE's A"0DRE?S TO HIS ARMT. 

Tune—" Hey tuttie tattie." 

Scots, wha hae Avi' Wallace bled, 
Scots, wham Bruce has aften led ; 
Welcome to your gory bed. 
Or to glorious victorie. 

Now's the day, and now's the hour ; 
See the front o' battle lower ; 
See approach proud Edward's power- 
Edward ! chains and slaverie ! 

Wha will be a traitor knave ? 
Wha can fill a coward's grays ? 
Wha sae base as be a slave ? 
Traitor 1 coward ! turn and flee ! 



FOn A' THAT AND A* THAT. 



22d 



Wha for Scotland's King and law 
freedom's sword will strongly draw. 
Free-man stand, or free-man fa' ; 
Caledonia ! on wi' me ! 

By oppression's woes and pains ! 
By your sons in servile chains ! 
We will drain our dearest veins. 
But they shall— they shall be free I 

Lay the proud usurpers low 1 
Tyrants fall in every foe ! 
i^iberty's in every blow ! 
Forward ! let us do, or die 1 



THE GALLAN.T WEAVER. 

Tune—" The auld wife ayont the fire." 

Where Cart rins rowin to the sea, 
By monie a llow'er and spreading 

tree. 
There lives a lad, the lad for me, 
He is a gallant weaver. 

Oh I had wooers aught or nine. 
They gied me rings and ribbons fine ; 
And I was feard my heart would 
tine, 
And I gied it to the weaver, 

My daddie si^n'd my tocher-band. 
To gie the lad that has the land ; 
But to my heart I'll add my hand. 
And gie it to the weaver. 

While birds rejoice in leafy bowers ; 
While bees rejoice in opening flowers; 
While corn grows green in simmer 
showers, 
I'll love my gallant weaver. 



SONG. 

Anna, thy charms my bosom fire, 
And waste my soul with care ; 

But ah ! how bootless to admire. 
When fated to despair ! 

Yet in thy presence, lovely fair, 
To hope may be forgiven ; 

For sure, 'twere impious to despair 
So much in sight of heaven. 



FOR A' THAT AND A' 
THAT. 

Is there, for honest poverty. 

That hangs his head, and a' that ? 
The coward-slave, we pass him by. 
We dare be poor for a' that ! 
For a' that, and a' that. 

Our toil obscure, and a' that ; 
The rank is but the guinea stampj 
The man's the gowd for a' that. 

What tho' on hamely fare we dine, 
Wear hodden-gray, and a' that ; 
Gie folks their silks, and knaves their 
wine, 
A man's a man for a that. 
For a' that, and a' that. 

Their tinsel show, and a' that ; 
The honest man, tho' e'er sae poor, 
Is King o' men for a' that. 

Ye see yon birkie, ca'd a lord, 
Wha struts, and stares, and a' 
that ; 
Tho' hundreds worship at his word. 
He's but a coof for a' that : 
For a' that, and a' that, 

His riband, star, and a' that, 
The man of independent mind, 
He looks and laughs at a' that. 

A prince can mak a belted knight, 

A marquis, duke, and a' that ; 
But an honest man's aboon his 
might, 
Guid faith he mauna fa' that ! 
For a' that, and a' that. 

Their dignities, and a' that, 
The pith o' sense, and pride o' 
worth. 
Are higher rank than a' that. 

Then let us pray that come it may. 

As come it will for a' that ; 
That sense and worth, o'er a' the 
earth, • 
May bear the gree, and a' that. 
For a' that, and a' that, 

It's coming yet, for a' that. 
That man to man, the warld o'er, 
Shall brothers be for a' that. 



Q^O 



OtABiNM. 



DATO . Y DAVIE. 

"Now rosy May eonies in wi' ilowers, 
To deck her' I'-ij, <2,reen spreading 

bowers ; 
And now conies In my happy hours, 
To wander wi' iny Davie. 

CHORUS. 

Meet me on the warlock knowe. 
Dainty Davie, dainty Davie, 

There I'll spend the day wi' you, 
My ain dear dainty Davie. 

The crystal waters round us fa', 
'I'he merry birds are lovers a', 
Tlie scented breezes round us blaw, 
A wandering- wi' my Davie. 

Meet me, etc. 

Whan purple morning starts the hare. 
To steal upon her early fare. 
Then through the dews I will repair. 
To meet my faithf u' Davie. 

Meet me, etc. 

When day, expiring in the west, 
The curtain draws o' Nature's rest, 
1 tiee to his arms I lo'e best, 
And that's my ain dear Davie. 
Meet me, etc. 



The little flow'ret's peaceful lot, 

In yonder clilf that grows, 
Which, save ^lie linnet's flight, I wot, 

Nae ruder visit knows. 
Was mine ; till love has o'er me past, 

And blighted a' my bloom, 
And now beneath the withering blast 

My youth and joy consume. 

The waken 'd lav'rock warbling 
springs. 

And climbs the early sky, 
Winnowing blithe her dewy wings 

In morning's rosy eye ; 
As little reckt I sorrow's power. 

Until the flowery snare 
O' witching love in luckless hour. 

Made me the thrall o' care 

O had my fate been Greenland's 
snows, 

Or Afric's burning zone, 
Wi' man and nature leagu'd my foes, 

So Peggy ne'er I'd known ! 
The wretch whase doom is, " Hope 
nae mair ! " 

What tongue his woes can teL 
Within whose bosom, save despair 

Nae kinder spirits dwell. 



TO MR. CUNNINGHAM. 

Tune—" The hopeless lover." 

Now spring has clad the groves in 
green. 

And strew'd the lea wi' flowers ; 
The f urrow'd waving corn is seen 

Rejoice in fostering showers ; 
While ilka thing in nature join 

Their sorrows to forego, 
O why thus all alone are mine 

The weary steps of woe ! 

The trout within yon wimpling burn 

Glides swift, a silver dart, 
And safe beneath the shady thorn 

Defies the angler's art : 
My life was once that careless stream, 

That wanton trout was I ; 
But love, wi' unrelenting beam, 

JHas scorch'd my fountain dry. 



CLARINDA. 

Clarinda, mistress of my soul. 
The measur'd time is run ! 

The wretch beneath the dreary polb 
So marks his latest sun. 

To what dark cave of frozen night 

Shall poor Sylvander hie ; 
Depriv'd of thee, his life and light, 

The sun of all his joy ? 

We part — but by these precious drops 

That fill thy lovely eyes ! 
No other light shall guide my steps 

Till thy bright beams arise. 

She, the fair sun of all her sex, 
Has blest my glorious day : 

And shall a glimmering planet fix 
My worship to its ray ? 



CALEDOmA, 231 

WHY, WHY TELL THY LOVER. 

Tune—" Caledonian Hunt's delight," 
V/hy, why tell thy lover, O why, while faucy, raptur'd. slum- 

Bliss he never must enjoy ? bers, 

Why, why undeceive him, Chloris, Chloris all the theme ^ 

And give all his hopes the lie ? Why, why wouldst thou, cruel, 

Wake thy lover from his dream ' 

CALEDONIA. 

Tune—" Caledonian Hunt's delight." 
There was once a day, but old Time then was young. 

That brave Caledonia, the chief of her line, 
From some of your northern deities sprung : 

(Who knows not that brave Caledonia's divine ?) 
From Tweed to the Orcades was her domain. 

To hunt, or to pasture, or do what she would : 
Her heavenly relations there fixed her reign. 

And pledg'd her their godheads to warrant it good. 

A lambkin in peace, but a lion In war. 

The pride of her kindred the heroine grew ; 
Her grandsire, old Odin, triumphantly swore, 

" Whoe'er shall provoke thee, th' encounter shall rue I" 
With tillage or pasture at times she would sport. 

To feed her fair flocks by her green rustling corn : 
But chiefly the woods were her fav'rite resort. 

Her darling amusement, the hounds and the horn. 

Long quiet she reign'd ; till thitherward steers 

A flight of bold eagles from Adria's strand ; 
Repeated, successive, foi many long years. 

They darken'd the air, and they plunder'd the land. 
Their pounces were murder, and terror their cry, 

Tbey conquer'd and ruin'd a world beside ; 
She took to her hills, and her arrows let fly, 

The daring invaders they fled or they died. 

The fell Harpy-raven took wing from the north, 

The scourge of the seas, and the dread of the short ; 
The wild Scandinavian boar issu'd forth 

To wanton in carnage and wallow in gore •• ^ 
O'er countries and kingdoms their fury prevail'd. 

No arts could appease them, no arms could repel ; 
But brave Caledonia in vain they assail'd. 

As Largs well can witness, and Loncartie tell. 

The Cameleon-savage disturb'd her repose, 

With tumult, disquiet, rebellion, and strife ; 
Provok'd beyond bearing, at last she arose, 

And robb'd him at ouce of his hopes and his life : 
The Anglian lion, the terror of France, 

Oft prowling, ensanguin'd the Tweed's silver flood ; 
But, taught by the bright Caledonian lance, 

He learned to fear in his own native wood. 



n^ 



TME DUMFRIES VOLUKTEEMS. 



Thus bold, independent, imconquer'd, and free. 

Her bright course of glory for ever shall run : 
For brave Caledonia immortal must be ; 

I'll prove it from Euclid as clear as the sun : 
Rectangle-triangle the figure we'll choose. 

The upright is Chance, and old Time is the base ; 
But brave Caledonia's the hypothenuse ; 

Then ergo, she'll match them, and match them always 



ON THE BATTLE OF 
SHERIFF-MUIR, 

BETWEEN THE DUKE OP ARGTLE AND THE 
EAHL OP MAR. 

Tune— "The Cameronian rant." 

"O CAM ye here the fight to shun, 
Or herd the sheep wi' me, man ? 
Or were you at the Sherra-muir, 
And did the battle see, man ? " 
I saw the battle, sair and teugh. 
And reeking-red ran monie a sheugh, 
My heart, "for fear, gae sough for 

sough, 
To hear the thuds, and see the cluds 
i.) clans frae woods, in tartan duds, 
Wha glaum'd at Kingdoms three, 
man. 

The red-coat lads, wi' black cockades. 
To meet them were na slaw, man ; 
They rush'd and push'd, and blude 
outgush'd. 
And monie a bouk did fa', man : 
And great Argyle led on his files, 
I wat they glanced twenty miles : 
They hack'd and hash'd, while broad- 
swords clash'd. 
And thro' they dash'd, and hew'd and 
smash'd. 
Till fey men died awa, man. 

But had jon seen the philibegs, 
And skyrin tartan trews, man, 
When in the teeth they dar'd our 
whigs. 
And covenant true blues, man ; 
In lines extended lang and large. 
When bayonets oppos'd the targe. 
And thousands hasten'd to the charge, 
Wi' Highland wratli they frae the 

sheath 
Drew blades o' death, till, out of 
breath, 
They fled like frighted doos, man. 



" O how dell, Tam, can that be true? 

The chase gaed frae the north, man : 
I saw mysel, they did pursue 

The horseman back to Forth, man ; 
And at Dumblane, in my ain sight. 
They took the brig wi' a' their might, 
And straught to Sterling wing'd their 

flight ; 
But, cursed lot ! the gates were shut, 
And monie a huntit, poor red-coat, 

For fear amaist did swarf, man." 

My sister Kate cam up the gate 

Wi' crowdie unto me, man ; 
She swore she saw some rebels run 
Frae Perth unto Dundee, man : 
Their left-hand general had nae skill. 
The Angus lads had nae guid-will. 
That day their neebors' blood to spill ; 
For fear, by foes, that they should lose, 
Their cogs o' brose ; all crying woes. 
And so it goes, you see, man. 

They've lost some gallant gentlemen 
Amang the Highland clans, man ; 
I fear my Lord Panmure is slain. 

Or fallen in whiggish hands, man : 
Now wad ye sing this double tight, 
Some fell for wrang,and some for right 
But monie bade the world guid-night ; 
Then ye may tell, how pell and mell. 
By red clajmiores, and muskets' knell, 
Wi' dying yell, the tories fell, 
And whigs to hell did flee, man. 



THE DUMFRIES VOLUN- 
TEERS. 

Tune—" Push about the jorum." 

April, 1759. 

Does haughty Gaul invasion threat ? , 
Then let the loons beware. Sir, 

There's wooden walls upon our seas^. 
And volunteers on shore, Sir, 



CAPTAIN OROSE. 



238 



Kith shall rim to Corsincon, 
And Criffel sink to Solway, 
"Ere we permit a foreign foe 
On Britisli ground to rally ! 

Fal de ral, &c. 

let us not like snarling tykes 

In wrangling be divided ; 
Till, slap, come in an unco loon 

And wi' a rung decide it. 
Be Britain still to Britain true, 

Amang oursels united ; 
For never but by British hands 

Maun British wrangs be righted ! 
Fal de ral &c. 

The kettle o' the kirk and state, 

Perhaps a claut may fail in't ; 
But dell a foreign tinkler loon 

Shall ever ca' a nail in't. 
Our fathers' bluid the kettle bought. 

And wha ^ ad dare to spoil it ; 
By heaven, the sacrilegious dog 

Shall fuel be to boil it. 

Fal de ral, &c. 

I'he wretch that wad a tyrant own, 
And the wretch his true-born 
brother. 
Who would set the mob aboon the 
throne, 
May they be damned together ! 
Who will not sing, "God save the 
King," 
Shall hang as high's the steeple ; 
But while we sing, "God save the 
King," 
We'll ne'er forget Mie Peopie. 



O WHA IS SHE THAT LO'ES 
ME? 

Tune—" Morag." 

O WHA is she that lo'es me. 
And has my heart a-keeping ? 

O sweet is she that lo'es me, 
As dews o' summer weeping. 
In tears the rose-buds steeping. 

CHORUS. 

C that's the lassie o' my heart, 

My lassie ever dearer ; 
that's the queen o' womankind, 

And ne'er a ane to peer her. 



If thou shalt meet a lassie, 
In grace and beauty charming, 

That e'en thy chosen lassie, 
Erewhile thy breast sae warmings 
Had ne'er sic powers alarming ; 
O that's. &c. 

If thou hadst heard her talking, 
And thy attentions plighted. 

That ilka body talking. 
But her by thee is slighted, 
And thou'art all delighted ; 
O that's, &c. 

If thou hast met this fair one ; 
When f rae her thou hast parted, 

if every other fair one, 
But her, thou hast deserted, 
And thou art broken hearted ; 
O that's, &c. ' 

CAPTAIN GROSE. 

Tune — " Sir John Malcolm." 
Ken ye ought o' Captain Grose ? 

Igo, and ago. 
If he's amang his friends or foes ? 

Iram, coram, dago. 

Is he South, or is he North ? 

Igo, and ago, 
Or drowned in the river Forth ? 

Iram, coram, dago. 

Is he slain by Highland bodies ? 

Igo, and ago, ■ 
And eaten like a wether- haggis ? 

Iram, coram, dago. 

Is he to Abram's bosom gane ? 

Igo, and ago. 
Or haudin Sarah by the wame ? 

Iram, coram, dago. 

Where'er he be, the Lord be near him 1 

Igo, and ago, 
Asfor the deil, he daur na steer him. 
" Iram, coram, dago. 

But please transmit th' enclosed letter, 

Igo, and ago. 
Which will oblige your humble debtor, 

Iram, coram, dago. 

So may ye hae auld stanes in store, 

Igo, and ago, 
The very stanes that Adam bore. 

Iram, coram, dago. 



234 



MCPHERSON'S FAREWELL. 



»o may ye get in glad possession, 

Igo, and ago, 
I'he coins o' Satan's coronatioiji I 

I ram, coram, dago. 



WHISTLE OWRE 
LAVE OT. 



THE 



First when Maggy was my care. 
Heaven, I thought, was in her air ; 
Now we're married — spier nae mair- 
Whistle owre tlie lave o't. 

Meg was meek, and Meg was mild, 
Bonie Meg was nature's child — 
Wiser men than me's beguil'd ; — 
Whistle owre the lave o't. 

How ^e live, my Meg and me. 
How we love and how we 'gree , 
I Cure na by how a few may see — 
Whistle owre the lave o't. 

Wha I wish were maggots' meat, . 
Dish'd up in her winding sheet, 
I could write — but Meg maun see't- 
Whistle owre the lave o't. 



O, ONCE I 



LOV'D A 

LASS. 



BONIE 



Tune—" I am a Man unmarried." 

O, ONCE I lov'd a bonie lass, 

Ay, and I love her still, 
And whilst that virtue warms my 
breast 
I'll love my handsome Nell. 

Fal lal de ral, &c 

As bonie lasses I hae seen. 

And monie full as braw, 
But for a modest gracefu' mien 

The like I never saw. 

A bonie lass, I will confess 

Is pleasant to the ee, 
But without some better qualities 

She's no lass for me. 

But Nelly's looks are blythe and sweet 

And what is best of a', 
Her reputation is complete. 

And fair without a flaw. 

She dresses aye sae clean and neat, 
Both decent and genteel ; 



And then there's something in her gait 
Gars onie dress look Meel. 

A gaudy dress and gentle air 
May slightly touch the heart. 

But it's innocence and modesty 
That polishes the dart. 

'Tis this in Nelly pleases me, 
'Tis this enchants my soul !, 

For absolutely in my breast 
She reigns without control. 

Fal lal de ral, &c. 

YOUNG JOCKEY. 

Young Jockey was the blithest lad 

In a' our town or here awa ; 
Fu' blithe he whistled at the gaud, 

Fu' lightly danc'd he in the ha' 1 
He roos'd my een sae bonie blue, 

He roos'd my waist sae genty sma''} 
An' aye my heart came to my mou, 

When ne'er a body heard or saw. 

My Jockey toils upon the plain, 

Thro' wind and weed, thro' frost 
and snaw ; 
And o'er the lea I look fu' fain 

When Jockey's owsen hameward 
ca'. 
An' aye the night comes round again. 

When in his arms he takes me a'; 
An' aye he vows he'll be my ain 

As lang's he has a breath to draw. 

M'PHERSON'S FAREWELL. 

Farewell, ye dungeons dark and 
strong, 

The wretch's destinie : 
M'Pherson's time will not be long 

On yonder gallows tree. 

CHORUS. 

Sae rantingly, sae wantonly, 
Sae dauntiugly gaed he ; 

He play'd a spring and danc'd It 
round, 
Below the gallows tree. 

Oh, what is death but parting breath?— 

On monie a bloody plain 
I've dar'd his face, and in this place 

I scorn him yet again ! 

Sae rantingly, &c. 



A BOTTLE AND FRIEND. 



236 



Untie these bands from off my hands, 
And bring to me my sword ! 

And there's no a man in all Scotland, 
But I'll brave him at a word. 
Sae rantingly, &c. 

I've liv'd a life of sturt and strife ; 

I die by treacherie : 
It burns my heart I must depart 

And not avenged be. 

Sae rantingly, &c. 

Now farewell light, thou sunshine 
bright, 
And all beneath the sky ! 
May ccward shame disdain his name. 
The wretch that dares not die ! 
Sae rantingly, &c. 



THE DEAN OF FACULTY- 

A NEW BALLAD. 

Tune—'' The Dragoa of Wautlej'." 

Dire was the hate at old Harlaw 

That Scot to Scot did carry ; 
And dire the discord Langside saw. 

For beauteous, hapless Mary : 
But Scot with Scot ne'er met so hot. 

Or were more in fury seen, Sir, 
Than 'twixt Hal and Bob for the fa- 
mous job— 

Who should be Faculty's Dean, Sir. 

This Hal for genius, wit, and lore. 

Among tlie tirst was number'd ; 
But pious Bob, 'mid learning's store. 

Commandment the tenth remem- 
ber'd . 
Yet simple Bob the victory got. 

And won his heart's desire ; 
Which shews that heaven can boil the 
pof, 

Though the devil piss in the fire. 

Squire Hal besides had, in this case. 

Pretensions rather brassy, 
Foi' talents to deserve a place 

Are qualifications saucy ; 
So their worships of the Faculty. 

Quite sick of merit's rudeness. 
Chose one who should owe it ali, d'ye 
see, 

To their gratis grace and goodness. 



As once on Pisgah purg'd was the sighl 

Of a son of Circumcision, 
So may be, on this Pisgah height, 

Bob's purblind, mental vision ; 
Nay, Bobby's mouth may be open'd 

yet, 

Till for eloquence you hail him. 
And swear he has the Angel met 
That met the Ass of Bjilaam. 

In your heretic sins may ye live and 
die, 

Ye heretic eight and thirty ! 
But accept, ye sublime Majority, 

My congratulations hearty. 
With your Honors and a certain King» 

In your servants this is striking — 
The more incapacity they bring. 

The more they're to your liking. 



I'LL AY CA' IN BY YON 
TOWN. 

I'll ay ca' in by yon town, 

And by yon garden green again ; 

I'll ay ca' in by yon town. 

And see my bonie Jean again. 

There's nane sail ken, there's nane sail 
guess, 

What brings me back the gate again, 
But she, my fairest faithfu' lass, 

And stownlins we sail meet again. 

She'll wander by the aiken tree 
When trystin-time draws near again 

And when her lovely form I see, 
O haith, she's doubly dear again ! 



A BOTTLE AND FRIEND. 

Here's a bottle and an honest friend ! 

What wad ye wish for mair, man ? 
Wha kens, before his life may end. 

What his share may be o' care, 
man ? 
Then catch the moments as they fly. 

And use them as ye ought, man : 
Believe me, happiness is sliy, 

And comes not ay when scught, 
man. 



230 



ON CE88N0CK BANKS. 



I'LL KISS THEE YET. 

Tune— '-The Braes or" Balquhidder." 
CHORUS. 

I'll kiss tliee yet, yet, 
-A.nd ril kiss thee o'er again. 

And I'll kiss thee yet, yet, 
My bonie Peggy Alison ! 

Ilk care and fear, when thou art near, 

I ever mair defy them, O ; 
Young kings upon their hansel throne 

Are no sae blest as I am, O ! 
I'll kiss thee, &c. 

When in rny arms, wi' a' thy charms^ 
I clasp my countless treasure, O ; 

I seek nae mair o' Heaven to share. 
Than sic a moment's pleasure, O I 
I'll kiss thee, &c. 

And by the een sac- bonie blue, 
I swear I'm thine for ever, O ; — 

And on thy lips I seal my vow, 
And break it shall I never, O 1 
I'll kiss thee, &c. 



ON CESSNOCK BANKS. 

¥WNE— " If he be a Butcher neat and trim." 

On Cessnock banks a lassie dwells ; 
Could I describe lier shape and 
mien ; 
Our lasses a' she far excels. 
An' she has twa sparkling rogueish 
een. 

She's sweeter tlian the morning dawn 
V When rising Phoebus first is seen, 
^And dew-drops twinkle o'er the lawn ; 
^ An' she has twa sparkling rogueish 
een. 

She's stalely like yon youthful ash 
That grows the cowslip braes be- 
tween, 
And drinks the stream with vigour 
fresh ; 
An' she. has twa sparkling rogueish 
een. 

She's spotless like the flow'ring thorn 
With flow'rs so white and leaves so 
green, 



When purest in the dewy mom ; 

An' she has twa sparkling rogueisb 
een. 

Her loooks are like the vernal May, 
When ev'ning Phoebus shines serene, 

While birds rejoice on every spray ; 
An' she has twa sparkling rogueish 
een. 

Her hair is like the curling mist 
That climbs the mountain-sides at 
e'en. 

When flow'r-reviving rains aie past ; 
An' she has twa sparkling rogueish 



Her forehead's like the show'ry bow, 
When gleaming sunbeams intervene 

And gild the distant mountain's brow •, 
An' she has twa sparkling rogueish 



Her cheeks are like yon crimson gen\ 
The pride of all the flowery scene. 

Just opening on its thorny stem ; 
An' she has twa sparkling roguei^ 
een. 

Her teeth are like the nightly snow 

When pale the morning rises keen. 
While hid the murmuring streamlets 
flow, 
An' she has twa sparkling rogueish 
eea 

Her lips are like yon cherries ripe,'' 
That sunny walls from Boreas 
screen ; 
They tempt the taste and charm the 
sight ; 
An' she has two sparkling rogueish 
een. 

Her teeth are like a flock of sheep, 
With fleeces newly washen clean, 

That slowly mount the rising steep ; 
An' she has twa glancin' sparklin' 
een. 

Her breath is like the fragrant breeze 
That gently stirs the blossom'd bean, 

When Phoebus sinks behind the seas ; 
An' she has twa sparkling rogueish 



NEYEB BE PEACE TILL JAMIE COMES HAME. 



237 



Her voice is like the ev'ning thrush 
That sings on Cessnock banks un- 
seen. 
While his mate sits nestling in the 
bush ; 
An' she has twa sparkling rogueish 
een. 

^t its not her air, her form, her face, 
Tho' matching beauty's fabled 
queen, 
'Tis the mind that shines in every 
grace. 
An' chiefly in her rogueish een. 



PRAYER FOR MARY. 

Tune— "Blue Bonnets." 

Lowers celestial, whose protection 

Ever guards the virtuous fair. 
While in distant climes I w^ander. 

Let my Mary be your care : 
Let her form sae fair and faultless. 

Fair and faultless as your own ; 
Let my Mary's kindred spirit 

Draw your choicest influence 
down. 

Make the gales you waft around her 

Soft and peaceful as her breast ; 
Breathing in the breeze that fans 
her, 

Soothe her bosom into rest : 
Guardian angels, O protect her. 

When in distant lands I roam ; 
To realms unknown while fate exiles 
me. 

Make her bosom still my home. 



YOUNG PEGGY. 

Tune—" Last time I cam o'er the Muir." 



lass, 



our bonniest 



Her blush is like the morning, 
The rosy dawn, the springing grass, 

With early gems adorning. 
Ker eyes outshine the radiant beams 

That gild the passing shower, 
And glitter o'er the crystal streams. 

And cheer each fresli'ning flower. 

Her lips more than the cherries bright, 

A richer dye has grac'd them ; 
They charm th' admiring gazer's sight. 

And sweetly tempt to taste them : 
Her smile is as the ev'ning mild. 

When feather'd pairs are courting. 
And little lambkins wanton wild, 

In playful bands disporting. 

Were Fortune lovely Peggy's foe, 

Such sweetness would relent her. 
As blooming Springs unbends the 
brow 

Of surly, savage Winter, 
Distraction's eye no aim can gaia. 

Her winning powers to lessen ; 
And fretful Envy grin in vain, 

The poison'd tooth to fasten. 

Ye Pow'rs of Honour, Love, and 
Truth, 

From ev'ry ill defend her ; 
Inspire tlie highly favour'd youth 

The destinies intend her ; 
Still fan the sweet connubial flame 

Responsive in each bosom ; 
And bless the dear parental name 

With many a filial blossom. 



THERE'LL NEVER BE PEACE TILL JAMIE COMES 

HAME. 

A SONG. 

By yon castle wa', pt the close of the day, 
I heard a man sing, tho' his head it was grey ; 
And as he was singing, the tears fast down came— 
There'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame. 

The church is in ruins, the state is in jars. 
Delusions, oppressions, and murderous wars ; 
We dare na weel say't, but we ken wha's to blame-=- 
There'll never be peace till Jamie conies liame. 



238 



MARY MO BISON. 



My seven braw sons for Jamie drew sword, 
And now I greet round their green beds in the yerd ; 
It brak the sweet heart o' my faithf u' auld dame — 
There'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame. 

Now life is a burden that bows me down, 
Sin' I tint my bairns, and he tint his crown ; 
But till my last moments my words are the same — 
There'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame. 



THERE WAS A LAD. 

Tune—" Dainty Davie." 
There was a lad was born in Kjde, 
But what'n a day o' wliat'n a style 
I doubt it's haiS.ly worth the while 
To be sae nice wi' Robin. 

Robin was a rovin' Boy, 

Rantin' rovin', rantin' rovin' ; 

Robin was a rovin' Boy, 
Rantin' rovin' Robin. 

Our monarch's hindmost year but ane 
AVas five-and-twenty days begun, 
'Twas then a blast o' Janwar win' 
Blew hansel in on Robin. 

The gossip keekit in his loof , 
Quo' scho wha lives will see the proof, 
This waly boy will be nae coof, 
I think we'll ca' him Robin. 

ITe'll hae misfortunes grgat and sma', 
Rut ay a heart aboon them a' ; 
He'll be a credit till us a', 
We'll a' be proud o' Robin. 

But sure as three times three mak nine, 
I see by ilka score and line, 
This chap will dearly like our kin', 
So lecze me on thee. Robin. 

Guid faith, quo' scho, I doubt you. Sir, 
Ye gar the lassies lie aspar, 
But^twenty fauts ye may hae waur. 
So blessings on ye, Robin, 

Robin was a rovin' Boy, 

Rantin' rovin', rantin' rovin' ; 

Robin was a rovin' Boj^ 
Rantin' rovin' Robin. 

TO MARY. 

Tune — " Ewe-bughts, Marion." 
Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary, 

And leave auld Scotia's shore ? 
Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary, 

Across the Atlantic's roar ? 



sweet grows the lime and the orange^ 
And the apples on the pine ; 

But a' the charms o' the indies 
Can never equal thine. 

1 liae sworn by the Heavens to my 

Mary, 
I hae sworn by the Heavens to be 

true ; 
And sae may the Heavens forget me. 
When I forget my vow ! 

O plight me your faith, my Mar^^ 
And plight me your lily-white hand; 

O plight me your faith, my Mary, 
Before I leave Scotia's strand. 

We hae plighted our troth, my Mary, 
In mutual affection to join. 

And cr.rst be the cause that shajj part 
us ! 
The hour, and the moment o' time ! 



MARY MORISON. 

Tune—" Bide Ye Yet." 

Mary, at thy window be, 

It is the wish'd, the trysted hour ! 
Those smiles and glances let me see, 

That makes the miser's treasure 
poor ; 
How blythely wad I bid the stoure, 

A weary slave frae sun to sun ; 
Could I the rich reward secure. 

The lovely ]Mary Morison. 

Yestreen, when to the trembling string 
The dance gaed thro' the lighted ha', 

To thee my fancy took its wing, 
I sat, but neither heard or saw : 

Tho' this was fair, and that wasdraw^ 
And yon the toast of a' the town, 

1 sigh'd, and said amang them a', 

" Ye are nae Mary Morisoii." 



MY FATHER WAS A FARMER. 



239 



Mary, canst thou wreck his peace, 
Wha for thy sake would ghidly die? 

Or canst thou break that heart of liis, 
Whase only faut is loving thee ? 

If love for love thou "Svilt na gie, 
At least be pity to me shown 1 

A thought ungentle cannabe 
The thought o' Mary Morison, 

THE SODGER'S RETURN. 

Tune-" The Mill Mill O." 
When wild war's deadly blast was 
blaw^n, 
And gentle peace returning, 
Wi' many a sweet babe fatherless, 
And mony a widow mourning : 

1 left the lines and tented lield, 
Y/here lang I'd been a lodger, 

My humble knapsack a' my w^calth, 
A poor and honest sodger. 

A leal, light heart was in my breast, 

My hand unstain'd wi' plunder .♦ 
And for fair Scotia, hame again 

I cheery on did wander. 
I thought upon the banks o' Coil,, 

I thought upon my Nancy, 
1 thought upon the witching smile 

That caught my youthful fancy. 

At length I reached the bonie glen. 

Where early life I sported ; 
I pass'd the mill, and trysting thorn. 

Where Nancy aft I courted : 
Wha spied I but my ain dear maid, 

Down by her mother's dwelling ! 
Au(^ turn'd me round to hide the flood 

That in my een was swelling. 

Wi' alter'd voice, quoth I, Sweet lass. 
Sweet as yon hawthorn blossom, 

O happy, happy may he be, 
That's dearest to thy bosom ! 



My purse is light, iVe far to gang. 
And fain wad be tliy lodger ; 

I've servd mj King and Country 
lang — 
Take p:ty on a sodger 1 

Sae wistfully she gaz'd on me. 

And loveliei* was than ever : 
Quo' she, a sodger ance I lo'ed, 

Forget hiin shall I never : 
Our humble cot, and hamely fare. 

Ye freely shall partake it, 
That gallaut badge, the dear cockade, 

Ye're w:.'lcome for the sake o't. 

She gaz'd —she redden'd like a rose- 
Syne piile like onie hly ; 

She" sank within my arms and cried, 
Art th.iu my ain dear AVillie ? 

By Him who made yon sun and sky, 
By whom true love's regarded, 

I am tha man ; and thus may still 
True lovers be rewarded ? 

The wars are o'er, and I'm come hame. 

And lind thee still true-hearted ; 
Tho' poor in gear, w^'re rich in love. 

And mair we'se ne'er be parted. 
Quo' she, j\Iy grandsire left me go^^ cC 

A mailen plenish'd fairly ; 
And come, my faithful sodger lad. 

Thou'rt welcome to it dearly ! 

For gold the merchant ploughs the 
main, 

The farmer plows the manor ; 
But glory is the sodger's prize ; 

The sodger s wealth is honour : 
The brave poor sodger ne'er despise. 

Nor count him as a stranger. 
Remember he's his Country's stay 

In day and hour of danger. 



MY FATHER WAS A FARMER. 

Tune— "The Weaver and his Shuttle, O." 
My Father wns a Farmer upon the Carrick border, O 
And cnrefully he bred me in decency and order, O 
He bade me net a manly part, though I had ne'er a farthing, O 
For without an honest inanly iieart, no man was worth regarding, O. 

Then out into the world my course I did determine, O 
Tho' to be rich was not mv wish, yet to be great was charming, Q 
My talents they w^ere not the worst : nor yet luy education, Q 
Jiesolv'd was I, «it least to try, to meDd my situation, 0. 



§40 BONIE LESLEY. 

In many a way, and vain essay, I courted fortune's favour ; O 
Some cause unseen still stept between, to frustrate each endeavour, O 
Sometimes by foes I was overpowered ; sometimes by friends forsaken ; O 
And when my hope was at the top, I still was worst mistaken, O. 

Then sore harass'd, and tired at last, with fortune's vain delusion ; O 
I dropt my schemes, like idle dreams, and came to this conclusion ; O 
The past was bad, and the future hid ; its good or ill untried ; O 
But the pres'ent hour was in my pow'r, and so I would enjoy it, O, 

No help, nor hope, nor view had I ! nor person to befriend me ; O 
So I must toil, and sweat and bioil, and labour to sustain me, O 
To plough and sow, to reap and mow, my father bred me early ; O 
For one, he said, to labor bred, was a match for fortune fairly, O. 

Thus all obscure, unknown, and poor, thro' life I'm doom'd to wander, O 
Till down my weary bones I lay in everlasting slumber ; O 
No view nor care, but shun whale'er might breed me pain or sorrow ; O 
I live to-day as well s I may, regardless of to-morrov/, O. 

But cheerful still, I am as well as a monarch in a palace, O 

Tho' fortune's frown still hunts me down, with all her wonted malice ; O 

I make indeed my daily bread, but ne'er can make it farther ; O 

But as daily bread is all I need, I do not much regard her, O. 

When sometimes by my labour I earn a little money, O 
Some unforeseen misfortune comes generally upon me ; O 
Mischance, mistake, or by neglect, or my good-natur'd folly ; O 
But come what will, I've sworn it still, I'll ne'er be melancholy, O, 

All you who follow wealth and power with unremitting ardour, O 
The more in this you look for bliss, you leave the view the farther ; O 
Had you the wealth Potosi boasts, or nations to adore you, O 
A cheerful honest-hearted clown I will prefer before you, O. 

A MOTHER'S LAMENT FOR BONIE LESLEY. 

THE DEATH OF HER SON. Tune-" The collier's bonuie Dochter." 

Tune-'' Finlayston House." q g^^ ^^ -^q^:^^ Lesley 

Fate gave the word, the arrow sped, As she gaed o'er the border ? 

And pierc'd my darling's heart ; She's gane, like Alexander, 

And with him all the joys are fled To spread her conquests farther. 

Life can to me impartj rp^ g^^ j^^^ jg ^^ lo^e l^e^.^ 

By cruel nands the sapling drops, ^^^ j^^^ ^^^ 1^^^. forever ; 

In dust dishonour d laid : p^^. Nature made her what she is, 

So fell the pride of all my hopes, ^^^ ^^,^^ ^^^^ g^c auither ! 

My age's future shade. 

r^, .1 ,. ...Ill Thou art a queen, Fair Lesley, 

The mother-lmnet in the brake ,j,j subjects we, before thee : 

Bewails her ravish'd young ; r^^^^ ^^,^ ^j^i^^^^ ^..^i,. i^^^x^j^ 

So I, for my lost darling s sake, ,pj^^ \i^r^x{^ o' men adore thee. 

Lament the live-day long. 

Death, oft I've feared thy fatal blow, The Deil he could na scaith thee. 

Now, fond, I bare my breast. Or aught that wad belang thee ; 

O, do thou kindly lay me low He'd look into thy bonie face, 

With him I love, at rest 1 And say, " I canna wrang the§, 



ON A BANK OF FLOWERS. 



Ul 



The Powers aboon will tent thee ; 

Misfortune sha'na steer thee ; 
Thou'rt like themselves sae lovely, 

That ill they'll ne'er let near thee. 

Return again, Fair Lesley, 

Return to Caledonie ! 
That we may brag, we hae a laSfs 

There's nane again sae bonie. 

AMANG THE TREES. 

Tune — " The King of France, he rade a race.'' 
Amang the trees where humming bees 

At buds and flowers were hinging, O 
Auld Caledon drew out her drone, 

And to her pipe was singing ; O 
'Twas Pibrock, Sang, Strathspey, or 
Reels, 

She dirl'd them aff fu' clearly, O 
When there cam a yell o' foreign 
squeels. 

That dang her tapsalteerie, O. 

Their capon craws and queer lia ha's. 

They made our lugs grow eerie ; O 
The hungry bike did scrape and pike 

Till we were wae and wearie : O — 
But a royal ghaist wha ance was cas'd 

A prisoner aughteen year awa. 
He fir'd a fiddler in the north 

Tnat dang them tapsalteerie, O. 

AVHEN FIRST I CAME TO 
STEWART KYLE. 

Tune—" I had a horse and I had nae jnair." 
When first I came to Stewart Kyle, 

My mind it was na steady. 
Where'er I gaed, where'er I rade, 

A mistress still I had aye : 
But when I came roun' by Mauchline 
town, 

Not dreadin' onie body, 
My heart was caught before I thought, 

And by a Mauchline lady. 

ON SENSIBILITY. 

TO MT DEAR AND MUCH HONOURED FRIEND, 
MRS. DUNT.OP, OF DUNLOP. 

Air- ' Sensibility." 
Sensibility, how charming. 

Thou, my friend, canst truly tell ; 
But distress, with horrors arming, 

TJiou ]ia£,t, ^\&o kjiQwn too well i 



Fairest flower, behold the lily. 
Blooming in the sunny ray : 

Let the blast sweep o'er the valley. 
See it prostrate on the clay. 

Hear the wood-lark charm the forest. 
Telling o'er his little joys : 

Hapless bird ! a prey the surest 
To each pirate of the skies. 

Dearly bought the hidden treasure 
Finer feelings can bestow ; 

Chords that vibrate sweetest pleasure 
Thrill the deepest notes of woe. 



MONTGOMERIE'S PEGGY. 

Tune—" Galla Water." 
Altho* my bed were in yon muir, 

Amang the heather, in my plaidie. 
Yet happy, happy would I be. 
Had I my dear Montgomerie's 
Peggy. 
When o'er the hills beat surlj storms. 
And winter nights were dark and 
rainy, 
I'd seek some r^ell, and in my arms 
I'd shelter dear Montgomerie's 
Peggy. 

Were I a Barou proud and high, 
And horse and servants waiting 
ready. 
Then a' 'twad gie o' joy to me, 

The sharin't wi' * Montgomerie's 
Peggy. 

ON A BANK OF FLOWERS. 

On a bank of flowers, in a summer 
day. 

For summer liglitly drest. 
The youthful blooming Nelly lay. 

With love and sleep opprest ; 

When Willie wand'ring thro' the 

wood. 
Who for her favour oft had sued ; 
He gaz'd, he wish'd, he fear'd, he 

blush'd. 
And trembled where he stood. 

Her closed eyes, like weapons sheath'd. 
Were seal'd in soft repose ; 

Her lips, still as she fragrant breath'd, 
Ji riclifir dy'4 th^ rosjs. 



242 



WOMEN'S MIJWS. 



The springing lilies sweetly prest, 
"Wild-wanton kiss'd her rival breast ; 
He gaz'd, he wish'd, he fear'd, he 
blush'd, 
His bosom ill at rest. 

Her robes, light waving in the breeze 
Her tender limbs embrace ! 

Her lovely form, her native ease, 
All harmony and grace I 

Tumultuous tides his pulses roll, 
A faltering ardent kiss he stole ; 
He gaz'd, he wish'd, he fear'd, he 
blush'd, 
And sigh'd his very soul. 

As flies the partridge from the brake 

On fear-inspir'd wings ; 
So Nelly, starting, half awake. 

Away affrighted springs : 

But Willie follow'd — as he should, 
He overtook her in the wood : 
He vow'd, he pray'd, he found the 
maid 
Forgiving all, and good. 

O RAGING FORTUNE'S 
WITHERING BLAST. 

O RAGING fortune's withering blast 
Has laid my leaf full low ! O 

O raging fortune's withering blast 
Has laid my leaf full low 1 O 

My stem was fair, my bud was green. 
My blossom sweet did blow ; O 

Thedew fell fresh, the sun rose mild, 
And made my branches grow ; O. 

But luckless fortune's northern storms 
Laid a' my blossoms low, O 

But luckless fortune's northern storms 
Laid a' my blossoms low, O. 

EVAN BANKS. {Seenote.) 

Tune—" Savouma "Delish." 

Slow spreads the glcom my soul 

desires. 
The sun from India's shore retires ; 
To Evan Banks with temp'rate ray. 
Home of mj youth, he leads the daj. 



Oh Banks to me for ever dear I 
Oh stream, whose murmur still I hears 
All, all my hopes of bliss reside 
Where Evan mingles with the Clyde. 

And she, in simple beauty drest, 
Whose image lives within my breast ; 
Who trembling heard my partiug sigh, 
And long pursued me with her eye : 

Does she, with heart unchang'd as 

mine, 
Oft in the vocal bowers recline? 
Or, where yon grot o'erhangs the tide, 
Muse while the Evan seeks the Clyde? 

Ye lofty Banks that Evan bound. 
Ye lavish woods that wave around. 
And o'er the stream your shadows 

throw, 
AVhich sweetly winds so far below : 

What secret charm to mem'ry brings. 
All that on Evan's border springs ! 
Sweet Banks ye bloom by Mary's side, 
Blest stream ! she views thee haste to 
Clyde. 

Can all the wealth of India's coast 
Atone for years in absence lost ! 
Return, ye moments of delight, 
With richer treasures bless my sight I 

Swift from this desert let me part. 
And fly to meet a kindred heart ! 
Ko more may auglit my steps divide 
From that dear stream which flows to 
Clyde ! 

WOMEN'S MINDS. 

Tune— "For a' That" 

Tho' women's minds like winter winds 
May shift and turn, and a' that, 

The noblest breast adores them maist, 
A consequence I draw that. 

For a' that, and a' that, 
And twice as meikle's a' that 

The bonie lass that I loe best 
She'll be my ain for a' that 

Great love I bear to all the fair, 
Their humble slave, and a' that 

But lordly will, I hold it still 
A mortal sin to thraw that. 
For a' that, &c- 



LEAVE NOVELS, 



243 



But there is ane aboon the lave, 
Has wit, and sense, and a' tiiiit ; 

A bonie lass, I like her best. 
And wha a crime dare ca that ? 
For a' that, &c. 

In rapture sweet this hour we meet, 
Wi' mutual love and a' that ; 

But for how lang the flie may stang. 
Let inclination law that. 
For a' that, &c. 

Their tricks and craft hae put me daft. 

They've ta'en me in, and a' that ; 
But clear your decks, and here's " The 
Sex I " 
I like the jades for a' that. 
For a' that, &c. 



TO MARY IN HEAVEN. 

Tune— "Miss Forbes' farewell to Banff." 

Thou lingering star, with less'ning ray 

That lov'st to greet the early morn, 
Again thou iislier'st in the day 

My Mary from my soul was torn, 
O Mary ! dear departed shade ! 

Where is thy place of blissful rest ? 
Seest thou thy lover lowly laid ? 

Hear'st thou the groans that rend 
his breast ? 

That sacred hour can I forget ? 

Can I forget the hallow'd grove, 
"Where by the winding Ayr we met. 

To live one day of parting love ? 
Eternity will not efface 

Those records dear of transports past; 
Thy image at our last embrace ; 

Ah ! little thought we, 'twas our last! 

Ayr gurgling kiss'd his pebbled shore, 
, O'eihung with wild woods, thick- 

'ning green ; 
The fragrant birch, and hawthorn hoar 

Twin'd am'rous round the raptur'd 
scene. 
The flowers sprang wanton to be prest, 

The birds sang love on ev'ry spray, 
Till too, too soon, the glowing west 

Proclaim'd the speed of winged day. 

Still o'er these scenes, my mem'ry 
wakes, 
4n(J fpndly broocjs with miser c^el 



Time but the impression deeper makes 
As streams their channels deeper 
wear. 
My Mary, dear departed shade 1 

Where is thy blissful place of rest ? 
Seest thou thy lover lowly laid ? 
Hear'st thou the groans that rend his 
breast ? 

TO MARY. 

Could aught of song declare my pains. 
Could artful numbers move thee, 

The Muse should tell, in labour'd 
strains, 
O Mary, how I love thee ! 

They who but feign a wounded heart 
May teach the lyre to languish ; 

But what avails the pride of art, 
When wastes the soul with anguish? 

Then let the sudden bursting sigh 
The heart-felt pang discover ; 

And in the keen, yet tender eye, 
O read th' imploring lover ! 

For well I know thy gentle mind 
Disdains art's gay disguising ; 

Beyond what fancy e'er refin'd, 
The voice of nature prizing. 



O LEAVE NOVELS. 

O LEAVE novels, ye Mauchline belles, 
Ye're safer at your spinning wheel ; 

Such witching books are baited hooks 
For rakish rooks, like Rob Mossgiel. 

Your fine Tom Jones and Grandisons, 
They make your youthful fancies 
reel, 
They heat your brains, and fire your 
veins. 
And then you're prey for Rob Moss- 
giel. 

Beware a tongue that's smoothly hung, 
A heart that warmly seems to feel • 

That feeling heart but acts a part, 
'Tis rakish art in Rob IMossgiel. 

The frank address, the soft caress. 
Are worse than poison'd darts of steet 

The frank address, and politesse, 
Afe ^11 fiiiessis in Bob Mossgiel. 



244 



THE CHEVALIER'S LAMENT, 



ADDRESS TO GENERAL 
DUMOURIER. 

A PARODY ON KOBIN ADAIR. 

^Tou're welcome to Despots, Dumou- 

rier : 
You're welcome to Despots, Dumou- 

rier ; 
How does Dampi^r do ? 
Aye, and Bournonville too ? 
Why did they not come along with 

you. Dumourier ? 

I will fight France with you, Dumou- 
rier ; 

I will fight France with you, Dumou- 
rier ; 

I will figiit France with you, 

I will take n\y chance with you ; 

By my soul I'll dance a dance with 
you, Dumourier. 

Then let us fight about, Dumourier ; 
Then let us fight about, Dumourier ; 
Then let us fight about, 
Till freedom's spark is out, 
TUtin we'll be damned no doubt — Du- 
mourier. 



SWEETEST MAY. 

Sweetest May. let love inspire thee ; 
Take a heart which he designs thee ; 
As \\\y constant slave regard it ; 
For its faith and truth reward it. 

Proof o' shot to birth or money. 
Not the wealthy, but the bonie ; 
Not high-born, but noble-nu'nded. 
In love's silken hand can bind it 1 



ONE NIGHT AS I DID 
WANDER. 

Tune—" John Anderson my Jo.'* 

One night as I did wander, 
When corn begins too shoot, 

I sat me down to ponder, 
Upon an auld tree root : 

Auld Ayr ran ])y before me, 
And ])icker'd to the seas ; 

A cushat crooded o'er me 
That echoed thro' the bmes, 



THE WINTER IT IS PAST. 

A FRAGMENT. 

The winter it is ])ast, and the simmer comes at last» 
And the small birds sing on ever}' tree ; 

Now everything is glad, while I am very sad, 
But my true love is parted from me. 

The rose upon the brier by the waters running clear. 
May have charms for the linnet or the bee ; 

Their little loves are blest, and their little heart* at rest. 
But my true love is parted from me. 



Her flowing locks, the raven's wing, 
Adown her neck and bosom hing ; 

How sweet unto that breast to cling, 
And round that neck entwine her ! 



FRAGMENT. 

Her lips are roses wet wi' dew I 
O, what a feast her bonie mouf 

Her cheeks a mair celestial hue, 
A crimson still divmcr \ 



THE CHEVALIERS LAMENT, 

TuNK—" Captain Kean." 
The small birds rejoice in tl;e green leaves refiirning. 



The murmuring streamlet winds c'loar thro" the vaJe; 
lie hawthorn trees blow in the devvs of the morning 
A-ud wfl(J sca.tter'd cowslips bedeck tbe ^reen da]^ 



THE TARBOLTOir LASSES. 845 

But what can give pleasure, or what can seem fair, 
While the lingering moments are number'd by care ? 

No tlov/ers gaily springing, nor birds sweetly aiuging. 
Can soothe the sad bosom of joyless despair. 

The deed that I dar'd could it merit their malice, 

A King or a Father to place on his throne ? 
His right are these hills, and his right are these valleys. 

Where the wild beasts find shelter, but I can find none. 

But 'tis not my suiTerings thus v.retchcd, forlorn ? 

My brave gallant friends, 'tis your ruin I mourn: 
Your deeds prov'd so loyal in hot bloody trial, 

Alas I can I make you no sweeter return ? 

THE BELLES OF MAUCHLINE. 

Tune—" Bonnie Dundee." 

In Mauchline there dwells six proper young Belles, 
The pride of the place and its neighbourhood a'. 

Their carriage and dress, a stranger would guess. 
In Lon'on or Paris they'd gotten it a' : 

Miss Miller is fine, Miss Mariiland's divine. 

Miss Smith she has wit, and Miss Betty is braw : 

There's beauty and fortune to get wi' Miss Morton, 
But Armour's the jewel for mc o' them a'. 

THE TARBOLTOlSr LASSES. 

Ip ye gae up to yon hill-tap, If she be shy, lier sister try, 
Ye'll there see bonie Peggy ; Ye'll maybe fancy Jenny, 

She kens her father is a laird. If ye'll dispense wi' want o' sense— 
And she forsooth's a leddy. She kens hersel she's bonie. 

There Sophy tight, a lassie bright. As ye gae up by yon hill-side, 

Besides a'handsome fortune : Speer in for bonie Bessy ; 

Wlia cnnna win her in a night. She'll gi'e ye a beck, and bid ye ligh^ 

Has little art in courting. And handsomely address ye. 

Gae down by Faile, and taste the ale, There's few sae bonie, nane sae gude; 

And tak a look o' JNIvsie ; In a' King George' dominion ; 

* She's dour and din, a deil within. If ye should doubt the truth o* this- 

But aiblins she may please ye. It's Bessy's ain opinion 1 

THE TARBOLTON LASSES. 

In Tiirbolton, ye ken, there are proper young men. 

And proper young lasses and a', man ; 
But ken ye the Ronalds that live in the Bennals, 

They carry the gree frae them a', man. 

Their father's a laird, and wcel he can spare't, 

Braid money to tocher them a', man, 
To proper young men, he'll clink in the hand 

Ctowd guineas a huuder or twa, man. 



246 THE TARBOLTON LASSES. 

There's ane they ca' Jean, I'll warrant ye've 
As bonle a lass, or as braw, man, 

But for sense and giild taste she'll vie wi' ■the beeftii 
And a conduct that beautifies a', man. 

The charms o' the min', the langer they shine. 
The mair admiration they draw, man ; 

While peaches and cherries, and roses and lilies. 
They fade and they wither awa, mpoi. 

If ye be for Miss Jean, tak this frae a frien', 

A hint o' a rival or twa, man, 
The Laird o' Blackbyre wad gang through the fire. 

If that wad eutice her awa, man. 

The Laird o' Braehead has been on his speed. 
For mair than a towmond or twa, man, 

The Laird o' the Ford will straught on a board. 
If he cauna get her at a', man. 

Then Anna comes in, the pride o' her kin. 
The boast of our bachelors a', man : 

Sae sonsy and sweet, sae fully complete. 
She steals our affections awa, man. 

If I should detail the pick and the wale 
O' lasses that live here awa, man, 

The fault wad be mine, if tluy didna shine 
The sweetest and best o' th«m a', man. 

! lo'e her mysel, but darena weel tell, 
My poverty keeps me in awe, man, 

For making o' rhymes, and working at times. 
Does little or naething at a , man. 

STet I wadna choose to let her refuse, 
Nor ha'e't in her power to say na, man. 

For though I be poor, unnoticed, obscure, 
My stomach's as proud as them a', man. 

Though I canna ride in weel-booted pride. 
And flee o'er the hills like a craw, man, 

i can baud up my head wi' the best o' the breed. 
Though fluttering ever so braw, man. 

^y coat and my vest, they are Scotch o' the best, 
O' pairs o' giiid breeks I ha'e twa, man. 

And stockings and pumps to put on my stumps, 
I ne'er wrang a steek in them a', man. 

My sarks they are few, but five o' them new, 
Twal' hundred, as white as the snaw, man, 

A ten shilling s hat, a Holland cravat ; 
There are no mony poets so braw, man. 

I never had frien's, weel stockit in means. 
To leave mc a Imndred or twa, man, 

Nae weel tochered aunts, to wait on their drants. 
And wish them in hell for it a', man. 



MT LADY'S GOWN^ TlinuWS GAITtS UPON*T, 



ui 



I never was canny for boarding o' money. 
Or claughtin't together at a', man, 

I've little to spend, and naething to lend. 
But deevil a shilling I awe, man. 



HERE'S A HEALTH TO 

THEM THAT'S AW A. 

Here's a health to them that's awa. 
Here's a health to them that's awa ; 
And wha winna wish guid luck to our 

cause, 
May never guid luck be their fa*. 
It's guid to be merry and wise. 
It's guid to be honest and true, 
It's guid to support Caledonia's cause. 
And bide by the buff and the blue. 
Here s a health to them that s awa. 
Here's a health to tliem that's awa. 
Here's a health to Charlie the chief o' 

the clan, 
Altlio" that his band bfe but sma' 
May liberty meet wi' success ! 
May prudence protect her frae evil 1 
May tyrants and tyranny tine in the 

mist. 
And wander their way to the devil I 
Here's a health to them that s awa, 
Here's a health to them that's awa ; 
Here's a health to Tammie, the Nor- 
land laddie, 
That lives at the lug o' the law ! 
Here's freedom to liim that wad read, 
Here's freedom to him that wad write ! 
There's naue ever fear'd that the truth 

should be heard. 
But they wham the truth wad indite. 
Here's a health to them that's awa, 
Here's a health to them that's awa, 
Here's Chieftain Mc'Leod, a Chieftain 

worth gowd, 
Tho' bred among mountains o' snaw 1 



CHORUS. 

I'm owre young, I'm owre your g^, 
I'm owre young to marry yet ; 

I'm owre young, twad be a sin 
To take frae my mammie yet. 

My mammie coft me a new gown. 
The kirk maun hae the gracing i'* - 

Were I to lie wi' you, kind Sir, 
I'm fear'd ye'd spoil the lacing o't. 
I'm owre young, &c. 

71allowmas is come and gane^ 

The nights are lang in winter, sir^ 

And you an' I in ae bed. 

In troth I, dare na venture. Sir. 
I'm owre 3'oung, &c. 

Fu' loud and shrill the frosty wind 
Blaws thro' the leafless timmer. Sir; 

But if ye'll come this gate again, 

I'll aulder be gin simmer. Sir, 

I'm owre young, &c. 



DAMON AND SYLVIA. 

Tune—" The tither morn, as I forlorn.** 

Yon wand'ring rill, that marks the 
hill. 

And glances o'er the brae. Sir : 
Slides by a bower where monie a flowei 

Sheds fragrance on the day, Sir. 

There Damon lay, with Sylvia gay : 
To love they thougiit nae crime, Sir s 

The wild birds sang, the echo's rang. 
While Damon's heart beat time, Sir. 



I'M OWRE YOUNG 
MARRY YET. 



TO 



I AM my mammie's ae bairn, 
Wi' unco folk I weary. Sir 

And lying in a man's bed, 
I'm fley' wad mak me eerie, sir. 



MY LADY'S GOWN 
THERE'S GAIRS UPON'T. 

My lady's gown there's gairs upon't, 
And gowden flowers sae rare upon'tJ 
But Jenny's jimps and jirkinet. 
My lord thinks muckle mair upou'l 



248 



LA7 TBI LOOF IN MINE, 



My lord a-hunting lie is gane, 

But hounds and hawks wi' him are 

nane. 
By Colin's cottage lies his game. 
If Colin's Jenny be at hame. 
My lady's gown, &c. 

My lady's white^ my lady's red. 
And kith and kin o^ Cassilis blude. 
But her ten-pun lands o'tocher guid 
Were a' the charms his lordship lo'ed. 
My lady's gown, &c. 

Out o'er yon muir, ou.t o'er yon moss, 
Whare gor-cocks chro' the heather 

pass. 
There wons old Colin's bonie lass, 
A'lily in a wilderness. 

My lady's gown, &c. 

Sae sweetly move her genty limbs, 
Like music notes o" lover's hymns : 
The diamond dew in her een sae blue, 
Whfire laughing love sae wautoii 
swims. 
My lady's gown, &c. 

My lady's dink, my lady's drest, 
The flower and fancy o' the west ; 
But tlie lassie that a man lo'es best, 
O that's the lass to make him blest. 
My lady's gown, &c. 



O Al? MY WIFE SHE DANG 
ME. 

CHORUS. 

(O ay my wife she dang me, 
^An' aft my wife did bang me ; 
'if ye gie a woman a' her will. 
Guid faith she'll soon o'ergang ye. 

On peace and rest my mind was bent, 
And fool I was I marry'd ; 

But never honest man's intent 
As cursedly miscarry'd. 

Some sa'r o' comfort still at last, 
"When a' thir days are done, man. 

My pains o' hell on earth are past. 
I'm sure o'bliss aboon. wian. 
ay mv wife, &e. 



THE BANKS OF NlTR 

A BALLAD. 

To thee, lov'd Nith, thy gladsomfl" 
plains, 
Where late wi' careless thought I 
rang'd, 
Though prest wi' care and sunk m 
woe, 
To thee I bring a heart unchang'd. 

I love thee, Nith, thy banks and braes, 
Tho' mem'ry there my bosom tear ; 

For there he rov'd that brake my 
heart. 
Yet to that heart, ah, still how dear f 

BONIE PEG. 

As I camo in by our gate end. 
As day was waxin' w^eary,' 

O wha come tripping down the street, 
But Bonnie Peg, my dearie ! 

Her air sae sweet, and shape complete, 
Wi' nae proportion wanting. 

The Queen of Love did never move 
Wi' motion more enchanting. 

Wi' linked hands, we took the sands 
Adown yon winding river ; 

And, oh ! that hour and broomy 
bower. 
Can I forget it ever ? 

O LAY THY LOOF IN MINE, 

LASS. 

CHORUS. 

O lay thy loof in mine, lass. 

In mine, lass, in mine, lass, 
And swear in thy white hand, !ass, 

That thou wilt be my ain. 

A SLAVE to love's unbounded sway. 
He aft has wrought me meikle wa,3 • 
But now he is my deadly fae. 
Unless thou be my ain. 
O lay thy loof, &c. 

There's monie a lass has broke my 

rest, 
That for a blink I hae lo'ed best ; 
But thou art Queen within my breast; 
For ever to remain. 

O laj thj loof, ^ 



THE FIVE CARLmS. 



249 



GiriD ALE COMES. 



guid ale comes, and guid ale goes 
Guid ide gars me sell my hose, 
Sell my hose, and pawn'my shoon, 
Guid ale keeps my heart aboon. 

I HAD sax owsen in a pleugh. 
They drew a' weel eneugh, 
I sell'd tiiera a' just ane by ane ; 
Guid ale keeps my heart aboon. 

Guid ale hands me bare and busy, 
Gars me moop wi' the servant hizzie 
Stand i' the stool when I hae done 
Guid ale keeps my heart aboon. 
O guid ale, &c. 

O WHY THE DEUCE. 

EXTEMPOKE. APRIL, 1782. 

WHY the deuce should I repine. 
And be an ill foreboder ? 

I'm twenty-three, and five feet nine— 
I'll go and be a sodger. 

1 gat some gear wi' meikle care, 

1 held it weel thegither ; 

But now it's gane and something mair, 
I'll go and be a sodger. 

POLLY STEWART. 

Tune— "Ye're welcome, Charlie Stewart." 
CHORUS. 

O lovely Polly Stewart, 
O charming Polly Stewart, 

There's ne'er a flower that blooms in 
May 
That's half so fair as thou art. 

The flower it blaws, it fades, it fa's. 
And art can ne'er renew it ; 

But worth and truth eternal youth 
Will gie to Polly Stew^art. 

May he, whase arms shall fauld thy 
charms. 
Possess a leal and true heart ; 
To him be given to ken the heaven 
He grasps in Polly Stewart. 
O lovely, &a 



ROBIN SHURE IN HAIRST. 

CHOKUS. 

Robin shure in hairst, 

I sure wi' him, 
Fient a heuk had I, 

Yet I stack by him. 

I GAED up to Dunse, 
To warp a wad o' plaiden. 

At his daddie's yett, 
Wha met me but Robin. 

"Was na Robin bauld, 

Tho' I was a cotter, 
Play'd me sick a trick 

And me the eller's dochter t 

Robin promis'd me 

A' my winter vittle ; 
Fient haet he but three 

Goose feathers and a whittle. 
Robin shure, &c. 



THE FIVE CARLINS. 

AN ELECTION BALLAD. 1789. 

Tune—" Chevy Chase." 

There were five Carlins in the south, 

They fell upon a scheme. 
To send a lad to Lon'on town 

To bring us tidings hame. 

Not only bring us tidings hame. 

But do our errands there, 
And aiblins gowd and honor baith 

Might be that laddie's share. 

There was Maggie by the banks o* 
Nith, 

A dame wi' pride eneugh ; 
And Majorie o' the monie Lochs 

A Carlin old an' teugh. 

And blinkin Bess o' Annanda'xe, 
That dwells near Sol way side, 

And whiskey Jean that took her gill 
In Galloway so wide. 

An' old black Joan frae Creighton 
peel, 

O' gypsy kith an' kin, 
Five wighter Carlins were na' foue' 

TJie south kintra withiL. 



250 



THE DEtTK'S DAl^O O'ER MT DADDY. 



To send a lad to Lon'on tov/n 

They met upon a day. 
And riionie a Knight and nionie a 
Laird, 

That errand fain would gae, 

O ! monie a Knight and mouie a Laird, 
This errand fain would gae ; 

But uae ane could their fancy please, 
O 1 ne'er a ane but twae. 

The first one was a belted Knight, 

Bred o' a border clan. 
An' he wad gae to Lon'on town. 

Might nae man him withstan' : 

And he would do their errands weel 

And meikle he wad say. 
And ilka a ane at Lon'on court 

Wad bid to him guid day. 

Then neist came in a sodger youth ' 
And spak wi' modest grace. 

An' he wad gae to Lon'on town. 
If sae their pleasure was. 

He wad na hecht them courtly gift, 
Nor meikle speech pretend ; 

But he would hecht an honest heart 
Wad ne'er desert his friend. 

jSFow wham to choose and wham re- 
fuse, 

To strife tliae Carlins fell ; 
For some had gentle folk to please, 

And some wad please themsel. 

Then out spak mim-mou'd Meg o' 
Nith, 

An' she spak out wi' pride, 
An' she wad send the sodger youth 

Whatever might betide. 

For the auld guMman o' Lon'on court 

She dindna ca. a pin. 
But she would senu he sodger youth 

To greet his eldest son. 

Then up sprang Bess o' Annandale : 

A deadly aith she's ta'en, 
Tliat she wad vote the border Knight, 

Tho' she should vote her lane. 

Fcr far aff fowls hae feathers fair. 
An' fools o' change are fain ; 

But I hae tried the border Knight, 
I'll try him yet again. 



Says auld black Joan frae CreigbtoQ 
peel, 

A Carlin stoor and grim, 
The auld guidman or young guidman. 

For me may sink or swim. 

For fools may freit o' riglit and wrang, 
While knaves laugh them to scorn : 

But the sodgers' friends hae blawn the 
best, 
Sae he shall bear the horn. 

Then whiskey Jean spak o'er her 
drink. 

Ye weel ken kimmers a' 
The auld guidman o' Lon'on court. 

His back's been at the wa'. 

And monie a friend that kiss'd his 
caup. 

Is now a f rammit wight ; 
But it's ne'er sae wi' whiskey Jean, — 

We'll send the border Knight. 

^ len slow raise Marjorie o' the 
Lochs, 

And wrinkled was her brow ; 
Her ancient weed was russet gray. 

Her auld Scots bluid was true. 

There's some great folks set light by 
me, 

I set as light by them ; 
But I will send to Lon'on town, 

Wha I lo'e best at hame. 

So how this weighty plea will end 
Nae mortal wight can tell ; 

God grant the King and ilka man 
May look weel to himsel ' 1 



THE DEUK'S DANG O'ER 
MY DADDIE. 

The bairns gat out wi' an unco shout. 

The deuk's dang o'er my daddie, O I 
The fient ma care, quo' the feirie auld 
wife. 

He was but a paidlin body, O. 
He paidles out, and he paidles in, 

An' he paidles late and early, O j 
This seven lang years I hae lien by 
his side. 

An' he is but a f usionless carlie, 0- 



Tmi trmoir. 



th\ 



baud your tongue, my feirie auld 

wife, 

baud your tongue now, Nansie, O. 
T've seen the day, and sue liae y^. 

Ye wadua been sae donsie, O. 
I've seen the day ye butter'd my brose 

And cnddle'd me kite and earlie, O ; 
But downa do's come o'er me now, 

And, oh, I find it sairly, O ! 

THE LASS THAT MADE 

THE BED TO ME. 

When Januar' wind was blawing 
cauld. 
As ta the north I took my way, 
The mirksome night did me enfauld^ 

1 knew na where to lodge till day. 

By my good luck a maid I met. 
Just in the middle o' my care : 

And kindly she did me invite 
To walk into a chamber fair. 

1 bow'd fu' low unto this maid. 
And thank'd her for her courtesie ; 

I bow'd fu' low unto this maid. 
And bade her mak a bed to me. 

She made the bed baith large and wide, 
Wi' twa white hands she spread it 
down ; 
She put the cup to her rosy lips, 
And drank, "Young man, now 
sleep ye soun." 

She snatch'd the candle in her hand, 
And frae my chamber went wi' 
speed ; 

But I cail'd her quickly back again 
To lay some mair below my head. 

A cod she laid below my head, 
And served me wi' due respect ; 

And to salute her wi' a kiss, 
I put my arms about her neck. 

'' Hand aff your hands, young mar," 
she says, 

" And dinna sae uncivil be : 
If ye hae onie love for me, 

O wrang na my virginitie ! " 

Her hair was like the links o' gowd, 
iier teeth were like the ivorie ; 



Her cheeks like lilies dipt in wine, 
The lass that made the bed to me. 

Her bosom was the driven snaw, 
Twa drifted heaps sae fair to see ; 

Her limbs the polish'd marble stane, 
The lass that made the bed to me. 

I kiss'd her owre and owre again. 
And aye she wist no what to say ; 

I laid her between me and the wa',^ 
The lassie thought na lang till day. 

Upon the morrow when we rose, 
I thank'd her for her courtesie . f" 

But aye she blush'd, and aye she 
sigh'd. 
And said, " Alas ! ye've ruin'd me." 

I clasp'd her waist, and kiss'd her syne. 
While the tear stood twinkling iu 
her ee ; 

I said, "My lassie, dinna cry. 
For ye ay shall mak the bed to me." 

She took her mither's Holland sheets. 
And made them a' in sarks to me : 

Blythe and merry may she be. 
The lass that made the bed to me. 

The bonie lass made the bed to me, 
The braw lass made the bed to me : 

I'll ne'er forget till the day I die, 
The lass that made the bed to ma I 



THE UNIOK 

\ri7i<fE— " Such a parcel of rogues in a nation," 

Fareweel to a' our Scottish fame, 

Fareweel our ancient glor}' ; 
Fareweel even to the Scottish name, 

Sae fam'd in martial story ! 
Xow Sark runs o'er the Sol way sands, 

And Tweed rins to the ocean. 
To mark where England s prcvince 
stands ; 

Such a parcel of rogues in a nation. 

What guile or force could not subdue. 

Through many warlike ages, 
Is wrought nov/ by a coward few. 

For hireling traitors' wages. 
The English steel we could disdain. 

Secure in valour's station, 
But English gold has been our bane ; 

Such a parcel of rogues in a nation I 



25fi 



WEE WILLIE. 



O would, or had I seen the day 

That treason thus could sell us, 
My auld grc}^ head had lien in clay, 

Wi' Bruce and loyal Wallace ! 
But pith and power, till my last hour 

I'll mak this declaration, 
We're bought and sold for English 
gold: 

Such a parcel of rogues in a nation \ 

THERE WAS A BONIE 

LASS. 

There was a bonie lass, and a bonie, 
bonie lass, 
And she lo'cd her bonie laddie dear ; 
Till war's lord alarms lore lier laddie 
frae her arms, 
Wi' monie a sigh and tear. 

Over sea, over shore, where the can- 
nons loudly roar. 
He still was a stranger to fear : 
And uocht could him quell, or his 
bosom assail. 
But the bonie lass he lo'cd sae dear. 



MY HARRY WAS A GAL. 
LANT GAY. 

Tune—" Highlander's lament." 

My Harry was a gallant gay, 

Fu' stately strade he on the plain I 

But now he's banished far away, 
I'll never see tjim back again. 

CHORUS. 

for him back again, 
O for him back again, 

1 wad gie a' Knockhaspie's land, 
For Highland Harry back agaia 

When a' the lave gae to their bed, 
I wander dowie up the glen ; 

I sit me down and greet my fill. 
And ay I wish him back again. 
Ofor him, &c. 

O were some villains hangit high, 
And ilka body had their ain, 

Then I might see the joyfu' sight. 
My Highland Harry back again J 
O for him, &c. 



TIBBIE DUNBAR. 

Tune—" Johnny M'Gill." 

O WILT thou go wi' me, sweet Tibbie Dunbar ? 

wilt thou go wi' me, sweet Tibbie Dunbar ? 
Wilt thou ride on a horse, or be drawn in a car ? 
Or walk by my side, O sweet Tibbie Dunbar ? 

1 care na thy daddie, his lands and his money, 
I care na thy kin, sae high and sae lordly : 
But say thoii wilt hae me for better or waur, 
And come in thy coatie, sweet Tibbie Dunbar. 



WEE WILLIE. 

Wee Willie Gray, and his leather wallet ; 

Peel a willow-wand, to be him boots and jacket : 

The rose upon the briar will be him trouse and doublet. 

The rose upon the briar will be him trouse and doublet 1 

Wee Willie Gray, and his leather wallet ; 

Twice a lily flower will be him sark and cravat ; 

Feathers of a flee wad feather up his bonnet, 

Feathers of a flee wad feather up his bonnet. 



LADT ONLIE. 



253 



CRAIGIE-BURN-WOOD. 

CHORUS. 

Beyond thee, dearie, beyond thee, 
dearie. 
And O to be lying beyond thee, 

sweetly, soundly, weel may he 

sleep. 
That's laid in the bed beyond thee. 

Sweet closes the evening on Craigie- 
biirn-wood. 
And blythely awakens the morrow; 
But the pride of tlie spring in the 
Craigie-burn-wood 
Can yield tome nothing but sorrow. 
Beyond thee, &c. 

I see the spreading leaves and flowers, 

1 hear the wild birds singing ; 
But pleasure they hae nane for me, 

While care my heart is wringing. 
Beyond thee, «S:c. 

I canna tell. I maun na tell, 

I dare na for jour anger ; 
But secret love will break my heart 

If I conceal it hmger. 
Beyond thee, &c. 

I see thee gracefu', straight and tall, 
I see thee swe(;t and bonie. 

But oh, what will my torments be. 
If thou refuse thy Johnie ! 
Beyond thee, &c. 

To see thee in anither's arms, 
In love to lie and languish, 

'Twad be my dead, that will be seen, 
My heart wad burst wi' anguish. 
Beyond thee, ifce. 

But, Jeanie, say thou wilt be mine 
Say thou lo'es nane before me ; 

An' a' my days o' life to come, 
I'll gratefully adore thee. 
Beyond thee, &c. 



HERE'S IILS HEALTH IK 
WATER. 

Tune -"The jol) of journey-work." 

Altiio' my back be at the wa , 
4j3(J t]^o' Jie be tbe fautor ; 



Altho' my back be at the wa'. 

Yet, here's his health in water ! 
O ! wae gae by his wanton sides, 

Sae brawlie he could flatter 
Till for his sake I'm slighted, sair. 

And dree the kintra clatter. 
But tho' my back be at the wa'. 

And tho' he be the fautor, 
But tho' my back be at the wa'. 

Yet, here's his health in water 1 



AS DOWN THE BURN 
TIIEl^ TOOK THEIR ^\ NX . 

As down the burn they took their 
way. 

And thro' the flowery dale ; 
I lis cheeks to hers he aft did lay. 

And love was a' the tale. 

"With " ^lary, when shall we return. 

Sic pk'MSure to renew ? " 
Quoth 3I;iry, " Love, I like the 
burn. 

And ay shall follow you." 



LADY OiVTLIE. 

Tune—" Ruffian'a rant." 

A' THE lads o' Thornie-bank, 

AVhcn they gae to the sliore o' Buck, 
They'll step in an' tak' a ]Hnt 
Wi' Lilly Unlic, honest Lucky I 
Lady Onlie, honesi Lucky. 

Brews gr.d«^ ale at shore o'Bucky; 
I wish her sale for lier gude ale, 
The best on a' the shore o' Bucky. 

""Icr house sae bien, her curch sao 
clcnn 
I wat she is a dainty chucky ; 
And cheerlie blinks the inii;le-glced 
Of Lady Onlie, honest Lucky ! 
Lady Onlie, honest Lucky, 

Brews gude ale at shore o' Bucky; 
I wish her sale for her gude ale, 
The best on a' the shore o* Buckjr. 



354 0277? THRI88LE8 FLOURISHED FRESH AJH) FAIh, 
AS I WAS A WANDERING. 

Tune -" Rinn meudial mo mhealladh." 
As I was a wand'ring ae midsummer e'enin', 

The pipers and youngsters were making their game. 
Amang them I spied my faithless fause lover, 
Which bled a' the wounds o' my dolour again. 

Weel, since he has left me, may pleasure gae wi' him ; 

I may be distress'd, but I winna complain ; 
I flatter my fancy I may get anither, 

My heart it shall never be broken for ane. 

I could na get sleeping till dawin' for greetin'. 
The tears trickled down like the hail and the rain ; 

Had I na got greetin', my heart M'ad a broken, 
For, oh ! love forsaken's a tormenting pain. 

Altho' he has left me for greed o' the siller, 

I dinna envy him the gains he can win ; 
I rather wad bear a' the lade o' my sorrow 

Than ever hae acted sae faithless to him. 

Weel, since he has left me, may pleasure gae wi' him. 

I m;.y be distress'd, but I winna complain ; 
I flatter my fancy I may get anither, 

My heart shall never be broken for ane. 

BANNOCKS O' BARLEY. 

TuNE-"TheKilIogie." 

Bannocks o' bear meal. Bannocks o' bear meal. 

Bannocks o' Barley ; Bannocks o' Barley ; 

Here's to the Ilighlandman's Here's to the lads wi' 

Bannocks o' barley. The bannocks o' barley ; 

Wha in a brulzie Wha in his wae-days • 

Will first cry a parley ? AVere loyal to Charlie ? 

Never the lads wi' Wha but the lads wi' 

The bannocks o' barley. The bannocks o' barley. 

OUR THRISSLES FLOURISHED FRESH AND FAIR. 

Tune— "Awa Whigs, awa." 

cnoRus. 

Awa Whigs, awa ! Our sad decay in Church and State 

Awa Whigs, awa ! Surpasses my descriving : 

Ye're but a pack o' traitor louns, The Whigs came o'er us for a curse, 

Ye'll do nae good at a'. And we hae done with, thriving. 

Our thrissles flourish'd fresh and fair, c.,j„, vengeance lang has ta'en a na] 

R '^ w> -?'"' vi"^ ''''/ 'T' ' T But we may see him wauken ; 

But Whigs came :ke a frost in June, (.^.j^ j^^j t,/, ,| ^^.^^ ^ j.^^^, 

And wither d a our posies. ^.^ ^^^^^^ U^^^ ^ m^u^iL 
Our ancient crown's fa'n in the dust — 

Deil blin' them wi' the stoure o't ; Awa Whigs, awa ! 
And write their names in his black Awa Whigs, awa ! 

heuk, Ye're but a pack o' traitor louns, 

Wliae ^ae the Whigs the power o't. Ye'll 4o n^e gude at a'. 



COMING THROUGH THE RTE. 



255 



PEG-A-RAMSEY. 

Tune—" Cauld is the e'enin' blast." 
Cauld is the e'enin' blast 

O' Boreas o'er the pool, 
And dawiu' it is dreary 

When birks are bare at Yule. 

O bitter blaws the e'enin' blast 
When bitter bites the frost, 

And in the mirk and dreary drift 
The hills and glens are lost. 

Ne'er sae murky blew the night 
That drifted o'er the hill, 

But bonie Peg-a-Ramsey 
Gat grist toher mill. 

:OME BOAT ME O'ER TO 
CHARLIE. 

Tune — " O'er the water to Charlie." 
!;!oME boat me o'er, come row me o'er. 

Come boat me o'er to Charlie ; 
''11 gie John Ross another bawbee, 
To boat me o'er to Charlie, 
We'll o'er the water and o'er the 
sea, 
We'll o'er the water to Charlie ; 
Come weal, come woe, we'll gather 
and go, 
And live or die wi' Charlie. 

: lo'e weel my Charlie's name, 
Tho' some there be abhor him ; 

3ut O, to see auld Nick gaun hame, 
And Charlie's faes before him I 

; swear and vow by moon and stars, 

And sun that shines so early, 
f I had twenty thousand lives, 
I'd die as oft for Charlie. 
We'll o'er the water and o'er the 
sea, 
We'll o'er the water to Charlie ; 
Come weal, come woe, we'll gather 
and go. 
And live or die wi' Charlie ! 

BRAW LADS OE GALLA 
WATER. 

Tune—" Galla Water," 
CHORUS, 

Braw, braw lads of Galla Water ; 
O braw Uds of Galla water I 



I'll kilt my coats aboon my knee. 
And follow my love through the 
water. 

Sae fair her hair, sae bent her brow, 
Sae bonie blue her een, my dearie ; 

Sae white her teeth, sae sweet her 
mou'. 
The mair I kiss she's ay my dearie , 

O'er yon bank and o'er yon brae, 
O'er yon moss amang the heather ; 

I'll kilt my coats aboon my knee. 
And follow my love through the 
water. 

Down amang the broom, the broom, 
Down amang the broom, my dearie, 
The lassie lost a silken snood. 
That cost her mony a blirt and 

bleary. 
Braw, braw lads of Galla Water ; 

O braw lads of Galla Water : 
I'll kilt my coats aboon my knee, 
And follow my love through the 
water. 

COMING THROUGH THE 
RYE. 

Tune—" Coming through the rye." 

Coming through the rye, poo? 
body, 

Coming through the rye, 
She draiglet a' her petticoatie,. 

Coming through the rye. 
Jenny's a' wat, poor body, 

Jenny's seldom dry ; 
She draiglet a' her petticoatie. 

Coming through the rye. 

Gin a body meet a body — 
Coming through the rye : 

Gin a body kiss a body — 
Need a body cry ? 

Gin a body meet a body 

Coining through the glen, 
Gin a body kiss a body — 

Need the world ken ? 
Jenny's a' wat, poor body ; 

Jenny's seldom dry ; 
She draiglet a' her jx^tticoatie 

Coming through the rye. 



*jo6 



HEE BALOU. 



THE LASS OF ECCLE- 
FECHAISJ. 

Tune—" Jacky Latin." 

Gat ye me, O gat ye me, 
O gat ye me wi' naething ? 

Rock and reel, and spinnin' wheel, 
A mickle quarter basin. 

Bye attour, my gucher has 
A hich house and a laigh ane, 



A' forbye, my bonie sel*. 

The toss of Ecclefechan. 

naud your tongue now, Lucki6 

Laing, 

haud your tongue and jauner ; 

1 held the gate till you I met, 

Syne I began to wander : 
1 tint my whistle and my sang, 

1 tint my peace and j^leasure ; 

But your green graft', now, Luckic 
Laing, 
Wad airt me to my treasure. 



THE SLAVE'S LAMENT. 

It was in sweet Senegal that my toes did me enthral, 

For the lauds of Virginia, O ; 
Torn from that lovely shore, and must never see it more. 

And alas I am weary, weary, O ! 

All on that charming coast is no bitter snow or frost, 

Like the lands of Virginia, O ; 
There streams for ever flow, and there flowers for ever blow. 

And alas I am weary, weary, O ! 

The burden I must bear, while the cruel scourge I fear. 

In the lands of Virginia, O ; 
And I think on friends most dear, with the bitter, bitter tear. 

And alas I am weary, weary, O ! 



HAD I THE WYTE. 

Tune—" Had I the wyte she bade me." 

Had I the wyte, had I the wyte. 

Had I the wyte she bade me ; 
She watch'd me by the hie-gate side, 

And up the loan she shaw'd me ; 
And when I wadna venture in, 

A coward loon she ca'd me ; 
Had kirk and state been in the gate, 

I lighted when she bade me. 

Sae craftilie she took me ben. 

And bade me make na clatter ; 
*' For our ramgunshoch glum gude- 
man 

Is out and ower the water " : 
Whae'er shall say I wanted grace, 

When I did kiss and dawte her. 
Let hiiiLbe planted in my place. 

Syne say I was the fautor. 

Could I for shame, could I for shame, 
Qo\M I forshavQie refused her ? 



And wadna manhood been to blame. 

Had I unkindly used her ? 
He clawed her wi' the ripplin-kame, 

And blue and bluidy bruised her ; 
When sic a husband was frae home. 

What wife but had excused her V 

I dighted ay her een sae blue. 

And bann'd the cruel randy ; 
And weel I wat her v^iliing mou' 

Was e'en like sugar-candy. 
A gloamin-shot it was I trow, 

I lighted on the Monday ; 
But I cam through the Tysday's dew 

To wanton Willie's brandy. 

HEE BALOU. 

Tune— "The Highland balou." 

Hee balou ! my sweet wee Donald, 
Picture of the great Clanronald ; 
Brawlie kens our wanton chief 
Wha ^ot mj joun§ Hii^hland Met* 



HET, THE DUSTY MILLER. 



257 



Leeze me on thy bonie craigie, 
A;i' M'ou live, tliou'll steal a naigie-. 
Travel the country thro' and thro', 
And bring liame a Carlisle cow. 

Til re ".lie Lawlands, o'er the border, 
Weel, my babie, may thou furder : 
lierry the louns o' the laigh countree, 
iSy^'c CO the Highlands hame to me. 



HER DADDIE FORBAD. 

Tune— "Jumpin John." 

Her daddie forbad, her minnie for- 
bad ; 
Ibrbidden she wadna be : 
91' J wadna trow't, the browst she 
brew'd 
Wad taste sae bitterlie. 

The lang lad they ca' Jumpin' 
John 
Beguiled the bonie lassie, 
The lang lad they ca' Jumpin' 
John 
Beguiled the bonie lassie. 

A cow and a cauf , a yowe and a hauf, 
And Miretty gude shillin's and three ; 
A very good tocher, a cotter-man's 
dochter, 
The lass Wxtli the bonie black ee. 
The lang lad thej^ ca' Jumpin' 
John 
Beguiled the Iconic lassie. 
The lang lad they ca' Jumpin' 
John 
Beguilea the bonie lassie. 



IIEP.E'S TO TI\Y HEALTH, 
MY BONIE I ASS. 

Tune— "Lag^in Burn.' 

Here's to thy health, my bonie lasg, 
Giulc night, and joy be wi' thee ; 

I'll come nae mair to thy bower door. 
To tell liiee that I lo'e thee. 

dimia think, my pretty pink, 
That ' can live without thee: 

1 vow ;n:(i swear I dinna care 

Uow lung ye look about je, 



Thou'rt ay sae free informing mi 
Thou hast nae mind to marry , 

I'll be as free informing thee 
Nae time hae I to tarry. 

I ken thy friends try ilka means,- 
Frae wedlock to delay thee ; 

Depending on some higher chance- 
But fortune may betray thee. 

I ken they scorn my low estate. 

But that does never grieve me ; 
But I'm as free as any he, 

Sma' siller will relieve me. 
I count my healtli my greatest w.:alth, 

Sae long as I'll enjoy it : 
I'll fear nae scant. 111 bode nae 
want, 

As lang's I get employment. 

But far aif fowls hae feathers fair. 

And ay until ye try them ; 
Tho' they seem fair, still have a 
care, 
They ma}^ prove waur than I am. 
But at twal at night, when the moon 
shines bright, 
My dear, I'll come and see thee ; 
For the man that lo'es his mistresc 
weel 
Nae travel makes him weary. 



HEY, THE DUSTY MILLER 

Tune— "The Dusty Miller." 

Hey, the dusty miller, 

And his dusty coat ; 

He will win a shilling, 

Or he spend a groat. 

Dusty was the coat. 

Dusty was the color, 
Dusty was the kiss 
That I got fra the miller. 

Hey, the dusty miller, 
And his dusty sack ; 
Leeze me on the calling 
Fills the dusty peck. 
Fills the dusty peck. 

Brings the dusty siller ; 
I wad gic my coatie 
For the dusty millef. 



258 



THE FAB^^yELL, 



THE CARDIN' O'T. 

Tune— "Salt Fi^h and Dumplinge." 

I COFT a stane o' haslock woo', 

To make a coat to Johnny o't ; 
For Johnny is my only jo, 
I lo'e him best of ony yet. 

The cardin' o't, the spinnin' o't ; 

The warpin' o't, the winnin' o't ; 
Wlien ilka ell cost me a groat, 
The tailor staw the lynin' o't. 

For though his locks be lyart gray, 

And though his brow be held aboon ; 
Yet I hae seen him on a day 
The pride of a' the parishen. 
The cardin' o't, the spinnin' o't. 

The warpin' o't, the winnin' o't ; 
When ilka ell cost me a groat. 
The tailor staw the lynin o't. 



THE JOYFUL WIDOWER. 

Tune— " Maggie Lauder." 

I MARiiTED with a scolding wife 

The fourteenth of November ; 
She made me weary of my life, 

By one uuruh^ member. 
Long did I bear the heavy yoke, 

And many griefs attended ; 
But, to my comfort be it spoke, 

Now, now her life is ended. 

\Yc lived full one-and-twenty years 

A man and wife together ; 
At length from me her course she 
steer'd, 

And gone 1 know not whither ; 
Would 1 CO '.lid guess, I do profess, 

I speak, and (io not flatter, 
Of all the women in the' world, 

I never could come at her. 

Her body is bestowed well, 

A handsome grave does hide her ; 
But sure her soul is not in hell, 

The cieil would ne'er abide her. 
I rather think she is aloft, 

And imitating thunder ; 
For why, — methinks I hear her voice 

Tearing the clouds asunder. 



TKENIEL MENZIE'S BONIE 
MARY. 

Tune— The Ruffian's rant." 

In coming by th*^. brig o' Dye, 

At Darlet we a blink did tarry ; 
As day was dawin in the sky. 
We drank a healtli to bonie- Mary 
Theniel Menzie'3 iconic Mary, 

Theniel MenzieV bonie Mary 

Charlie Gregor tint his plaidie, 

Kissin' Theniel's bonie Mary. 

Her een sae bright, her brow sae white 
Her liaffet locks as brown'^ a berry^ 
An' ay they dimpled wi' a smile. 
The rosy cheeks o' bonie Mary. 
T^heniel Menzie's bonie Mary, 

Theniel Menzie's bonie Mary ; 
Ch^irlie Gregor tint his plaidie, 
Ivc'^in' Theniel's bonie JNIary. . 

We lap an danced the lee-lang day. 
Till piper lads were wae an' weary. 
But Charlie got the spring to pay 
For kissin' Theniel's bonie Mary. 
Theniel Menzie's bonie Mary, 

Theniel Mer^-ie's bonie Mary ; 
Charlie Gregor l»nt his plaidie, 
Kissin' Theniel's bonie Mar;^. 

THE FAREWELL. 

Tune—" It was a' for our rightfu' King." 

It was a' for our rightfu' King, 
We left fair Scotland's strand ; 

It was a' for our rightfu' King 
We e'er saw Irish land. 

My dear ; 
We e'er saw Irish land. 

Now a' is done that men can do, 

And a' is done in vain ; 
My love and native land farewell, 

For I maun cross the main, 
My dear; 

For I maun cross the main. 

He turned him right and round about 

Upon the Irish shore ; 
And gae his bridle-reins a shake. 

With adieu for evermore, 
My dear ; 

With adieu for evermore. 



MY LOVE SHE'S BUT A LASSIE YET. 



259 



The sodger from the wars returns. 

The sailor frae the main ; 
But I hae parted frae my love, 

Never to meet again, 

My dear ; 

Never to meet again. 

When day is gane and night is come. 
And a' folk bound to sleep ; 

I think on him that's far awa'. 
The lee-laug night, and weep, 

JMy dear ; 
The lee-lang night, and weep, 

IT IS NA, JEAN, THY 
BONIE FACE. 

Tune—" The Maid's Complaint." 

It is na, Jean, thy bonie face, 

Nor shape that I admire. 
Although thy beauty and thy grace 

Might weel awake desire. 
Something, in ilka part o' thee, 

To praise, to love, I find : 
But dear as is thy form to me. 

Still dearer is thy mind. 

Nae mair ungen'rous wish I hae, 

Nor stronger in my breast, 
Than if I cauna mak thee sae, 

At least to see thee blest. 
Content am I, if Heaven shall give 

But happiness to thee : 
And as wi' thee I'd wish to live. 

For thee I'd bear to die. 



JAMIE, COME TRY ME. 

Tune—" Jamie, come try me." 



Jamie, come try me, 
Jamie, come try me ; 
If thou would win my love, 
Jamie, come try me. 

If thou should ask my love, 

Could I deny thee ? 
If thou would win my love, 

Jamie, come try me. 

If thou should kiss me, lore, 
Wha could espy thee ? 



If thou wad be my love, 
Jamie, come try me. 
Jamie, come try me, &c. 



LANDLADY, COUNT THE 
LA WIN. 

Tune—" Hey tutti, taiti." 

Landlady, count the lawin. 
The day is near the dawin ; 
Ye're a' blind drunk, boys. 
And I'm but jolly fou. 

Hey tutti, taiti, 

How tutti, taiti — 

Wha's fou now ? 

Cog an' ye were ay fou, 
Cog an' ye were ay fou, 
I wad sit and sing to you 
If ye were ay fou. 

Weel may ye a' be ! 
Ill may we never see ! 
God bless the King, boys. 
And the companie 1 

Hey tutti, taiti, 

How tutti, taiti — 

Wha's fou now ? 



MY LOVE SHE'S BUT A 
LASSIE YET. 

Tune—" Lady Badinscoth's reel." 

My love she's but a lassie yet ; 

My love she's but a lassie yet ; 
We'll let her stand a year or twa, 

She'll no be half sae saucy yet. 
I rue the day I sought her. O, 

I rue the day I sought her, O ; 
Wha gets her needs na sae she's woo'd. 

But he may say he's bought her, O ! 

Come, draw a drap o' the best o't yet ; 

Come, draw a drap o' the best o'J 
yet: 
Gae seek for pleasure where ye will, 

But here I never missed it yet. 
We're a' dry w'i drinking o't. 

We're a' dry wi' drinking o't ; 
The minister kiss'd the fiddler's wife. 
An' could na preach for think in ' o't. 



260 



KENMURE'S ON AND, AW A. 



MY HEART WAS ANCE. 

Tunis—"' To the weavers gin ye go." 

My heart was ance as blythe and free 

As .simmer days were lang, 
But a bonie, westliu weaver lad 
Has gart me change my sang. 
To the weavers gin ye go, fair 
maids, 
To tlie weavers gin ye go ; 
I rede you right gang ne'er at 
night, 
To tiie weavers gin ye go, 

Ily mither sent me to the town, 

To warp a plaiden wab ; _ 
But the weary, weary warpin o't 

Has gart me sigh and sab. 

A bonie westlin weaver lad 

Sat working at his loom ; 
He took my heart as wi' a net. 

In every knot and thrum. 

I sat beside my warpin-wheel, 

And ay I Qa'd it roun'; 
But every shot and every knock, 

My heart it gae a stoun. 

The moon was sinking in the west 

Wi' visage pale and wan, 
As my bonie westlin weaver lad 

Convoy'd me through the glen. 

But what was said, or what was done, 

Shame fa' me gin I tell ; 
But oh ! I fear the kintra soon 

Will ken as weel's mysel. 

To the weavers gin ye go, fair maids, 
To the weavers gin ye go ; 

I rede you right gang ne'er at night, 
To the weavers gin ye go. 



LOVELY DAVIES. 

Tune— "Miss Muir." 

O HOW shall I, imskilfu', tiy 

The poet's occupation. 
The tunef u' powers, in happy hours, 

That whisper inspiration ? 
Even they maun dare an effort mair, 

Than aught they ever gave us, 
Or they rehearse, in equal verse, 

The charms o' lovely Dav;es, 



Each eye it cheers, when she ap. 
pears. 
Like Phoebus in the morning, 
When past the shower, and ev'ry 
Hovver 
The garden is adorning. 
As the wretch looks o'er Siberia's 
shore, 
When winter-bound the wave is ; 
Sae droops our heart when Ave maun 
part 
Frae cliarming lovely Davics. 

Her smile's a gift, frae 'boon the lift, 

That mak's us mair than princes ; 
A scepter'd hand, a King's command, 

Is in her darting glances ; 
The man in arms, 'gainst female charn\'5 

Even he her witling slave is ; 
He hugs his chain, and owns the reiga 

Of conquering, lovely Davies. 

My Muse to dream of such a theme, 

Her feeble powe/s surrender ; 
The eagle's gaze alone surveys 

The sun's meridian splendour ; 
I wad in vain essay the strain. 

The deed too daring brave is ; 
I'll drap the lyre, and mute admire, 

The charms o' lovely Davies. 

KENMURE'S ON AND 
AWA. 

Tune—" O Kenmiire's on and awa, Willie." 

O Kenmure's on and awa, Willie ! 

O Kenmure's on and awa ! 
And Kenmure's lords the bravest lord 

That ever Galloway saw. 

Success to Kenmure's band, Willie ! 

Success to Kenmure's band ; 
There's no a heart that fears a Whig 

That rides by Kenmure's hand. 

Here's Kenmure's health in wine, Wil- 
lie ! 
Here's Kenmure's health in wine ; 
There ne'er was a coward o' Ken- 
mure's blude, 
Nor yet o' Gordon's line. 

O Kenmure's lads are men, Willie ! 

Kenmure's lads are men ; 
Their hearts and s^vords are metal true 

And that their faes shall ken. 



THE monLAND WIDOW'S LAMmT. 



261 



They'll live of die wi' fame, Willie ! 

They "11 live or die wi' fame]; 
But soon, with sounding victorie, 

May Kenmure's lord come hame. 

Here's him that's far awa, Willie ! 

Here's him that's far awa ; 
And here's the flower that I love best — 

The rose that's like the snaw ! 



THE CAPTAIN'S LADY. 

Tune—" O mount and go." 
CHORUS. 

O mount and go, 

Mount and make you ready ; 
O mount and go, 

And be the Captain's Lady. 

When the drums do beat, 

And the cannons rattle. 
Thou shalt sit in state, 

And see thy love in battle. 

When the vanquish'd foe 
Sues for peace and quiet. 

To the shades we'll go, 
And in love enjoy it. 

O mount and go, 

Mount and make you ready ; 
O mount and go. 

And be the Captain's Lady. 

LADY MARY ANN. 

TuKE— " Cragtown's growing." 

O, Lady Mary Ann 

Looks o'er the castle wa'. 
She saw three bonie boys 

Playing at theba'; 
The youngest he was 

The flower amang them a'; 
My bonie laddie's young, 

But he's growin' yet. 

O father ! O father ! 

An' ye think it fit. 
We'll send him a year 

To the college yet ; 
We'll sew a green ribbon 

Round about his hat, 
And that will let them ken 

He's to marry yet. 



Lady Mary Ann 

Was a flower i' the dew, 
Sw^eet was its smell, 

Bonie was its hue ! 
And the langer it blossom'd 

The sweeter it grew ; 
For the lily in the bud 

Will be bonier yet. 

Young Charlie Cochran 

Was the sprout of an aik ; 
Bonie and bloomin' 

And straught was its make ; 
The sun took delight 

To shine for its sake, 
And it will be the brag 

O' the forest yet. 

The simmer is gane 

When the leaves theywere green 
And the days are awa 

That we hae seen ; 
But far better days 

I trust will ccme again, 
For my bonie laddie's young. 

But he's growin' yet. 



THE HIGHLAND WIDOW'S 
LAMENT. 

Oh ! I am come to the low countrie, 

Och-on, och-on, och-rie ! 
Without a penny in my purse. 

To buy a meal to me. 

It w^as nae sae in the Highland hills, 

Och-on, och-on, och-rie ! 
Nae woman in the country wide 

Sae happy was as me. 

For then I had a score o' kye, 

Och-on, och-on, oc lirie ! 
Feeding on yon hills so high. 

And giving milk to me. 

And there I had three score o' yowes, 

Och-on, och-on, och-rie ! 
Skipping on yon bonie knowes, 

And casting woo' to me. 

I was the happiest of the clan, 

Sair, sair, may I repine. 
For Donald was the brawest lad. 

And Donald he was mine. 



202 MALLt'S MEEK, MALLT'S SWEET. 

Till Charlii Stewart came at last, My Donald and his country fell 

Sae far .o set us free ; Upon C'ulhxlen's lield. 

My Doual.rs arm wtis wanted then. ^^^ , j ^^„^ ^.^,„^^. ^^^ „,^. ^,,^^. ^.^.^^irf. 



For i^ otland and for me 



Oeli-on. oeh-on, oeh lie ! 



Th''ir waefu' fate what need I tell, Nae woman in the world wide, 

Kight to the wran^' did yield : Sae wretched now jus me. 

jMEKUY JIAE I HEEX TEETlllN' A HECKLE. 

Tune—" Lord Breadulbam-'e March." 
O MKKUV hae I been teethin' a heckle, 

And merry hae I been shapin'a spoon; 
O merry hat I been eloutin a kettle, . 

And kissin' my Katie when a' was done. 
O a' the lani,' day I cu' at my hammer. 

An' a' the lani: day I whistle and sini:, 
A' the lani; ni<rht I cuddle my kimmer. 

An' a' the lani; night as happ} s a King. 

Bitter in dool I lickit my winnins, 

O' marrying Hess to gie Ikt a slave : 
Bless'd be the hour she cool d in her linrx-ns, 

And blythe b<' the t)ir(l that >ings on her grave. 
Come to my arms, my Katie, my Katie, 

An' come to my arms, and ki-^s me again ! 
})runken or solnr. here's to thee. Katie ! 

And blexs'd be the day I did it again. 

i{.\r'rMN\ lioAKiN- w lij.ii:. 

TcsK— "lUtllin" roariu' Willif." 

<) rattmn'. renin' Willie, If I should s( 11 my fiddle, 

<), he held to the fair. The warl' would think I was ma<i 

An' for to sell his liddle, For mony a raiilin' day 

An" buv some other ware; My fiddle and 1 liae had. 

Hut parting wi' his tidjUe. ^^ j ^.^^,^^ ^ ('nH-hallan, 

1 he saut far blin t h is ee ; , ,.,,„„i,,.-i,,,.i,i, i,,.-' 

Andralllin n.ar.n W .he. Ratllin'. roarin' Willie. 

\ e re weleome hame to me ! ^^-^^^ ^j„j,,^, .^, ^.,,,, ,^,^^^j ^^,^ 

() Willie, come sell yourtiddle, Sitting at yon board en', 

() s<'l! your liddle sac line ; And anmiig guid companic ; 

U Willie* come sell yourtiddle, KattJin'. roariu' Willie. 
And buy a pint o" wine ! Ve're welcome hame to me 1 

O .AIALLV'S .MEEK, .MALLY\S SWEET. 

O M ally's meek, I^Ially's sweet, 

Mally's modest and discreet, 
Mally's rare. Mally's fair' 

^Mally's every way complete. 
As I was walking up the street, 

A baretU maid I chanced to meet; 
But () the road was very hard 

For that fair maidens tender feet. 



0, WnAR DID Yh: GET. 263 

It were mair meet that those fine feet x 

Were wcel kiccd up in silken shoon, 
And 'twere more tit that she should sit 

Within your chariot gilt aboon. 

Her yellow hair, beyond compare, 

Comes trinkling down her swan-white neck, 
And her two eyes, like stars in skies. 

Would keep'a sinking ship frae wreck, 
O Mally's meek, Mally's sweet, 

Mally's modest and discreet, 
Mallys rare, Mally's fair, 

^lally's every way complete. 

SAE FAR AWA. O STEER TIER UP. 

Tune-" Dalk. itli Mniden Bridge." Tcnb— " O Pteer her up. ami baud ber gaun." 

O s\i) and heavy should I part, O stkkk her up. and baud her gaun— 

Hut for her sake .sae far awa ; Her mother's at the null, jo ; 

I'nknowing what mv wav may thwart And gin she wiiuia take a man, 

Mv native land >ae far'awa. Hen let her take her will, jo : 

Thoii that of a' thin-rs Maker art. First shore her wi" a kindly kiss, 

That form'd this Fair >ae far awa. And cu' another gill, jo, 

Gie bodv strength, then ill ne er start And gin she take the thing amiss. 

At this my wiiy sae far awa E'en let her llyte her hll, jo. 

ITow true is love to ptire (h'sort, O steer her up, and be na blate, 

So love to her. sae far awa : An' gin she tak it ill. jo. 

AikI noeht can heal mv bosom's smart. Then lea'e the lassie till her fate, 

Whih-. oh ! she is sae far awa. And time nae lang«r spill, jo ; 

Nam- other love, nane other dart. Ne'er break your heart for ae rebutO, 

I feel but hers, sae far awa ; Hut think upon it still, jo ; 

Hut fairer never touch'd a heart Then gin the la^Me winna do't, 

Than hers, the fair sae far awa. Ye II tin' anillu r will, jo. 

O, WHAR DID YE GET. 

TUNK— ■ Hnnie Dundee." 

wn.\R did ve get that hauver meal baiuuK-k ? 
() silly blind IxKly. () dinna ye see ? 

1 gat it frae a brisk young sodger la.ldie. 

H<'twe«n Saint .lolinston and bonic Dundee. 
() gin I saw the laddie that giw met ! 

Aft has he doudled me on his knee ; 
Mj?v Heaven protect my bonie Scotch laddie. 

xVnd .send him .s^ife hame to his babie ami me I 

Mv blessin's upon thy sweet we<- lippie. 

'Mv ble.s.sin's upon thy bonie e'e brie I 
Thy'smiles are .sae like my blythe sodger laddie, 

Thou's ay the dearer and dearer to me 1 
But I'll big a bower on yon honie banks. 

Where Tav rins winii>lin' by .<ae clear ; 
And I'll deed thee in the tartan s;ie line, 

And mak thee a man like thy daddic dear. 



264 



THE BL UDE liED HOSE AT TCtLE MA Y BLA W. 



THE F£TE CIIAMPfiTRE. 

Tune—" Killiecrankie." 
O wnA will to Saint Stephen's house, 

To do our errands there, man ? 
O wlia will to Saint Stephen's house, 

O' th' nierr}' lads of Ayr, man ? 
Or will we send a man-o'-law ? 

Or will we send a sodger ? 
Or him wha led o'er Scotland a' 

The nu'ikle Ursa-]\Iajor ? 

Come, will ye court a noble lord, 

Or buy a score o' lairds, man ? 
For worth and honour pawn their word 

Their vote shall be Glencaird's,man? 
Ane gies them coin,ane gies them wine 

Anither gies them clatter ; 
Anbank, whaguess'd the ladies' taste, 

He gies them Fete Champ6tre. 

When Love and Beauty heard the 
news. 
The gay-green woods amang, man ; 
Where gathering flowers and busking 
bowers, 
They heard the blackbird's sang, 
man ; 
A vow, they seal'd it with a kiss 

Sir Politics to fetter. 
As their's alone, the patent-bliss, 
To hold a Fete Champ^tre. 

Then mounted Mirth, on gleesome 
wing, 

O'er hill and dale she flew, man ; 
Ilk wimpling burn, ilk cr^^stal spring, 

Ilk gk'U and shaw she knew, man : 
She summon'd ever}- social sprite, 

That sports by wood or water, 
On til' bonie banks of Ayr to meet, 

And keep this Fete Champetre, 

Cauld Boreas, wi' his boisterous crew. 
Were bound to stakes liliiC kye, man ; 

And Oynthia's car' o' silver fu', 
('lamb up the starry sky, man : 

Retiected beams dwell in the streams. 
Or down the current shatter ; 



The western breeze steals through the 
trees. 
To view this F^te Champetre. 

How many a robe sae gaily floats ! 

That sparkling jewels glance, man \ 
To Harmony's enchanting notes, 

As moves the mazy dance, man ! 
The echoing wood, the winding flood, 

Like Paradise did glitter. 
When angels met, at Adam's yett, 

To hold their Fete Champetre. 

When Politics came there, to mix 

And make his ether-stane, man ! 
He circled round the magic ground. 

But entrance found he nane, man : 
He blush'd for shame, he cjuat his 
name. 

Forswore it, every letter, 
Wi' humble prayer to join and share 

This festive Fete Champetre. 

SIMMER'S A PLEASANT 
TDIE. 

TcNB— " Ay waiikin, O." 
Simmer's a pleasant time, 
Flow'rs of ev'ry colour : 
The water rius o'er the heugh. 
And I long for my true lover, 
Ay waukin O. 

Waukin still and wearie : 
Sleep I can get nane 
For thinking on my dearie.. 

When I sleep I dream, 
AVhen I wauk I'm eerie ; 

Sleep I can get nane 
For thinking on my dearie. 

Lanely night comes on, 

A' the lave are sleeping ; 
I think on my bonie lad 

And I bleer my een with greetin'. 
Ay waukin O. 

Waukin still and wearie ; 
Sleep I can get nane 
For thinking on my dearie 



THE BLUDE RED ROSE AT YULE MAY BLAW. 

Tune—" To daunton me." 
The blude red rose at Yule may blaw. 
The simmer lilies bloom in snaw. 
The frost may freeze the deepest sea : 
But an auld man shall never dauuton mQ 



THE COOPER 0' CXTDDIZ 



^65 



To daunton me, and me sae young, 
Wi' his faiise lieart and flatt'ring tongue, 
That is the thing you ne'er shall see ; 
For an auld man shall never daunton me. 

For a' his meal and a' his maut. 
For a' his fresh beef and liis saut, 
For a' Ills gold and white monie. 
An auld man shall never daunton me. 

His gear may buy him kye and yowes, 
His gsar may buy him glens andknowes ; 
But me he shall not buy nor fee, 
For an auld man shall never daunton me. 

He hirples twa fauld as he dow, 
Wi' his teethless gab, and his auld held pow, 
And the rain rains down frae his red bleer'd ee- 
That old man shall never daunton me. 

To daunton me, and me sa young, 
Wi' his fause heart and flatt'ring tongue. 
That is the thing you ne'er shall see ; 
For an old man shall never daunton me. 



THE HIGHLAND LADDIE. 

Tune—" If thou'lt play rae fair play." 

The boniest lad that e'er I saw, 

Bonie laddie. Highland laddie, 
Wore a plaid and was fu' braw, 

Bonie Highland laddie. 
On his head a bonnet blue, 

Bonie laddi;', Highland laddie, 
His royal heart was lirm and true, 

Bonie Highland laddie. 

Trumpets sound and cannons roar, 
Bonie lassie, Lawland lassie, 

And a' the hills wi' echoes roar, 

I Bonie Lawland lassie. 

J Glory. Honour, now invite, 
Bonie lassie, Lawland lassie. 

For Freedom and my King to fight, 
Bonie Lawland lassie. 

The sun a backward course shall take, 

Bonie laddie. Highland laddie. 
Ere aught thy manly courage shake ; 

Bonie Highland laddie. 
Go, for yoursel procure renown, 

Bonie laddie, Highland laddie, 
And for your lawful King his crown, 

Bonie Highland laddie 1 



THE COOPER O' CUDDIE. 

Tune— "Bab at the bowpter." 

The cooper o' Cuddie cam here awa, 
And ca'd the girrs out owre us a' — 
And our gude-wife has gotten a ca' 

That anger'd the silly gude-man, O 
We'll hide the cooper behind the door ; 
Behind the door, behind the door ; 
We'll hide the cooper behind the door. 

And cover him under a mawn, O. 

He sought them out, he sought them 

in, 
Wi', Deil hne her ! and, Deil hae him ! 
But the body was sae doited and blin', 
He wist na where he was gaun, O. 

They cooper 'd at e'en, they cooper'd 

at ni'^rn, 
Till our gude-man has gotten the scorn ; 
On ilka brow she's planted a horn. 

And swears that they shall stan', O. 
We'll hide the cooper behind the door. 
Behind the door, beliind the door ; 
We'll hide the cooper behind the door, 

And cover him under a mawn, O. 



266 



TUB fiTHEn Mons. 



NITHDALE'S WELCOME HAME. 



The noble Maxwells and their powers 

Are comiug o ur the border, 
Attd they'll gae bigg Terreagle's tow- 
ers, 

An' set them a' in order. 
And they declare Terreagle's fair, 

For their abode they chose it ; 
There's no heart in a' the land, 

But's lighter at the news o't. 



Tho' stars in skies may disappear. 

And angry tempests gather ; 
The happy hour may soon be near 

That brings us pleasant weather : 
The weary night o' care and grief 

May hae a joyful morrow ; 
So dawning day has brought ri' 
lief— 

Fareweel our night o' sorrow ! 



THE TAILOR. 

Tune—" The Tailor fell thro' the bed, thimbles an' a'." 
The Tailor fell thro' the bed, thimbles an' a'. 
The Tailor fell tliro' the bed, thimbles an' a'; 
The blankets were thin, and the sheets they were sma*. 
The Tailor fell thro' the bed, thimbles an' a'. 

The sleepy bit lassie, she dreaded nae ill, 
The sleepy bit lassie, she dreaded nae ill ; 
The weather was cauld, and the lassie lay still. 
She thought that a tailor could do her nae ill. 

Gie me the groat again, canny young man ; 
Gie me the groat again, canny young man ; 
The day it is short and the night it is lang, 
The dearest siller that ever I wan ! 

There's somebody weary wi' lying her lane ; 
There's somebody weary wi' lying her lane ; 
There's some that are dowie, I trow wad be fane 
To see the bit tailor come skippin again, 

THE TITHER MORN. 



The tither morn, 

When I forlorn, 
Aneath an aik sat moaning, 

I did na trow, 

I'd see my Jo, 
Beside me, gain the gloaming. 

But he sae trig, 

Lap o'er the rig, 
And dawtingly did cheer me. 

When I, what reck, 

Did least expec', 
To see my lad so near me. 

His bonnet he, 

A thouglit ajee, [me ; 

Cock'd sprush when first he clasp'd 

And I, I wat, 

Wi' faintness grat. 
While in his grips he press d me, 



Deil tak' the war I 

I late and air, 
Hae wish since Jock departed ; 

But now as glad 

I'm wi' my lad, 
As short syne broken-hearted. 

Fu' aft at e'en 

Wi' dancing keen. 
When a' were blythe and merry. 

I car'd na by, 

Sae sad was I 
In absence o' my dearie. 

But, praise be blest. 

My mind's at rest, 
I'm happy wi' my Johnny : 

At kirk and fair, 

I'se ay be there. 
And be as canty 's oney. 



THE CARLE OF KELLYBURN BRAES. ^67' 

THE CARLE OF KELLYBURN BRAES. 

Tune—" Kellyburn braes." 

There lived a carle on Kellyburn braes 

(Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme), 
4nd he had a wife was the plague o' his days ; 

And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in iDrime. 

Ae day as the carle gaed up the lang glen 

(Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme). 
He met wi' the Devil ; says, " How do you fen ?" 

And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime. 

" I've got a bad wife, sir ; that's a' my complaint 

(Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme), ^ 
'■' For, saving your presence, to her ye're a saint ;" 

And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime. 

*' It's neither your stot nor your staig I shall crave 

(Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme), 
*' But gie me your wife, man, for her I must have "; 

And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime. 

*' O welcome, most kindly," the blytlie carle said 

(Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme), 
''' But if ye can match i^er, ye're war nor ye're ca'd "; 

And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime. 

The Devil has got the auld wife on bis back 
(Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme), 
And like a poor pedlar, he's carried his pack ; 
And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime. 

He carried her hame to his ain hallan-door 

(Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme), 
Syne bad her gae in, for a b — li and a w — e ; 

And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime. 

Then straight he makes fifty the pick o' his band 

(Hey, and the rue growls bonie wi' thyme), 
Turn out on her guard in the clap of a hand ; 

And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime. 

The carlin gaed thro' them like ony wud bear 

(Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme), 
Wha'er she gat hands on came near her nae mair ; 

And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime. 

A reekit wee Devil looks over the wa' 

(Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme), 
" O, help, master help, or she" 11 ruin us a': 

And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime. 

The Devil he swore by the edge o' his knife 

(Hey, and the rue grows bonie \vi' thyme), 
He pitied the man that was tied to a wife ; 

And the thyme it is withered, and rue is in prime. 



268 THE WEARY PUND 0' TOW, 

The Devil he swore by the kirk and the bell 
(Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' tliyme), 

He was not in wedlock, thank heav'n, but in hell ; 
And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime. 

Then Satan has travell'd again wi' his pack 
(Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme), 

And to her aukl husband he's carried her back ; 
And tlie thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime. 

** I hae been a Devil the feck o' my life " 

(He3% and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme), 

*' But ne'er was in bell, till I met wi' a wife ; " 

And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime. 

THERE WAS A LASS. 

Tune—" Duncan Davson." 
There was a lass, they ca'd her Meg, 

And she held o'er the moors to spin ; 
There was a lad that foUow'd her. 

They ca'd liim Duncan Davison. 
The moor was driegli, and Meg was skiegh. 

Her favour Duncan could na win ; 
For wi' the rock she wad him knock,. 

And ay she shook the temper-pin. 

As o'er the moor they lightly foor, 

A burn was clear, a glen was green, 
Upon the banks they eased their shanks. 

And ay she set the v.iieel between : 
But Duncan swore a haly aith, 

That Meg should be a bride the morn ; 
Then Meg took up her spinnin' graith, 

And liung them a' out o'er the burn. 

We'll big a liouse — a wee, wee house. 
And we will live like King and Queen, 

Sae blythe and merry we wiTl be 
When ye set by the wheel at e'en. 

A man may drink and no be drunk ; 
A man may fight and no be slain ; 

A man may kiss a bonie lass, 
! And ay be welcome back again. 

THE WEARY PUND O' TOW. 

Tune—" The weary puud o' tow." 
The weary pund, the weary pund. There sat a bottle in a lio.e. 

The weary pund o' tow ; Beyond the ingle low, 

I think my wife will end her life And ay she took the tither souk 

Before she spin her tow. To drouk the stowrie tow. 

I bought my wife a stane o' lint Quoth I, For shame, ye dirty dame. 

As gude as e'er did grow ; Gae spin your tap o' tow ! 

And a' that she has made o' that, She took the rock, and wi' a knock 

Is ae poor pund o' tow. She brak it o'er my pow. 



THE CABLES OF DTSART. 



269 



At last her feet — I sang to see't — 

Gaed foremost o'er the knowe ; 
And or I wad anither jad, 
I'll wallop in a tow. 

The weary pund, the weary pund, 

The weary pund o' tow ! 
I tliink my wife will end her life 
Before she spin her tow. 



THE PLOUGHMAN. 

Tune— " Up wi' the Ploughman." 

The ploughman he's a bonie lad. 

His mind is ever true, jo, 
His garter's knit below his knee, 

His bonnet it is blue, jo. 

CHORUS, 

Then up wi't a', my ploughman lad, 
And hey, my merry ploughman ; 

Of a' the trades that I do ken. 
Commend me to the ploughman. 

My ploughman he comes hame at e'en, 
He's aften wat and weary ; 

Cast off the wat, put on the dry. 
And gae to bed, my Dearie ! 
Up wi't a', &c. 

1 will wash my ploughman's hose. 

And I will dress his o'erlay ; 
I will mak m.y ploughman's bed. 

And cheer him late and early, 
Up wi't a', &c. 

I hae been east, I hae been west, 
I hae been at Saint Johnston, 

The boniest sight that e'er 1 saw 
Was the ploughman laddie dancin'. 
Up wi't a', &c. 

Snaw-white stockins on his legs. 
And siller buckles glancin' ; 

A gude blue bonnet on his head, 
And O, but he was handsome ! 
Up wi't a', &c. 

Commend me to the barn-yard, 

And the corn-mou', man ; 
I never gat my coggie fou 

Till I met wi' the ploughmaij. 
Up wi't a', &c, 



THE CARLES OF DYSART. 

Tune—" Hey, ca' thro\" 
Up wi' the carles of Dysart, 

And the lads o' Buckhaven, 
And the kimmers o' Largo, 
And the lasses o' Leven. 
Hey, ca' thro', ca' thro'. 

For we hae mickle ado ; 
Hey, ca' thro', ca' thro'. 
For we hae mickle ado. 

We hae tales to tell, i 

And we hae sangs to sing ; ' 

We hae pennies to spend. 
And we hae pints to bring. 

We'll live a' our days, 

And them that come behin', 
Let them do the like, 

And spend the gear they win. 
Hey, ca' thro', ca' thro'. 

For we hae mickle ado ; 
Hey, ca' thro', ca' thro'. 
For we hae mickle ado. 

WEARY FA' YOU, DUN- 
CAN GRAY. 

Tune—" Duncan Gray." 
Weary fa' you, Duncan Gray — 

Ha, ha, the girdin o't ! 
Wae gae by you, Duncan Gray— 

Ha, ha, the girdin o't ! 
When a' the lave gae to their play, 
Then I maun sit the lee-lang day. 
And jog the cradle wi' my tae, 

And a' for the girdin o't ! 

Bonie was the Lammas moon— 

Ha, ha, the girdin o't ! 
Glowrin' a' the hills aboon — 

Ha, ha, the girdin o't ! 
The girdin brak, the beast cam down, 
I tint my curch, and baith my shoon ; 
Ah ! Duncan, ye're an unco loon — 

Wae on the bad girdin o't ! 

But, Duncan, gin ye'll keep youraith, 

Ha, ha, the girdin o't ! 
Ise bless you wi' my hindmost breath — 

Ha, ha, the girdin o't ! 
Duncan, gin ye'll keep your aith, 
The beast again can bear us baith, 
And auld i\Iess John will mend the 
skaith. 

And clout the bad fisjrdin o't 1 



270 



THE HERON BALLAD!^. 



MY HOGGIE. 

Tune— "What will I do gin my Hoggie die. ' 

What will I do gin my Hoggie die ? 

My joy, my pride, my Hoggie ! 
My only beast, I hae na mae, 

And vow but I was vogie ! 

The lee-lang night we watch'd the 
fauld, 

Me and my faithfu' doggie ; 
We heard nought but the roaring linn, 

Amang the braes sae scroggie ; 

But the howlet cry'd frae the castle 
wa', 

The blitter frae the boggie. 
The tod reply'd upon the hill, 

I trembled for my Hoggie. 

When day did daw, and cocks did 
craw, 

The morning \i was foggie ; 
An unco tyke lap o'er the dyke, 

And maist has killed my Hoggie. 

WHERE HAE YE BEEN. 

Tune—" Killiecrankie." 

Whare hae ye been sae braw, lad ? 

Where hae ye been sae brankie O ? 
O, whare hae ye been sae braw lad ? 

Cam ye by Killiecrankie, O. 
An' ye hae been whare I hae been, 

Ye had nae been so cantie, O ; 
An' ye hae seen wliat I had seen, 

On the braes o' Killiecrankie, O. 

I fought at land, I fought at sea ; 

At hame I fought my auntie, O ; 
But I met the Devil an' Dundee, 

On the braes o' Killiecrankie, O. 
The bauld Pitcur fell in a furr. 

An' Clavers got a clankie, O ; 
Or I had fed an Athole gled. 

On the braes o' Killiecrankie, O. 

COCK UP YOUR BEAVER. 

Tune—" Cock up your beaver." 

When first my brave Johnnie lad 

Came to this town, 
He had a blue bonnet 

That wanted the crown ; 



But now he has gotten 
A hat and a feather — 

Hey, brave Johnnie lad. 
Cock up your beaver ! 

Cock up your beaver, 

And cock it f u' sprush, 
We'll over the border 

And gie them a brush ; 
There's somebody there 

We'll teach better behavior- 
Hey, brave Johnnie lad, 

Cock up your beaver ! 



THE HERON BALIADS. 

FIRST BALLAD. 

Whom will you send to London town. 

To Parliament and a' that ? 
Or wha in a' the country round 
The best deserves to fa' that ? 
For a' that, an' a' that. 
Thro' Galloway and a' that ! 
Where is the laird or belteri 

knight 
That best deserves to fa' that ■* 

Wha sees Kerroughtree's open yett. 

And wha' is't never saw that ? 
Wha ever wi' Kerroughtree meets 
And has a doubt of a' that ? 
For a' that, an' a that. 
Here's Heron yet for a' that ! 
The independent patriot, 
The honest man, an a' that. 

Tho' wit and worth in either sex, 
St. Mary's Isle can shaw that ; 
Wi' dukes and lords let Selkirk mix, 
And well does Selkirk fa' that. 
For a' that, an' a' that, 
Here's Heron yet for a' that ! 
The independent commoner 
Shall be the man for a' that. 

But why should we to nobles jouk. 

And is't against the law that ? 
For wiiy, a lord may be a gouk, 
Wi' ribbon, star, an' a' that. 
For a' that, an' a that, 
Here's Heron yet for a' that 1 
A, lord may be a lousy loun, 
Wi' ribbon, star, an' a' that 



THE ELECTION'. 



271 



A beardless boy comes o'er the hills, 

Wi' uncle's purse an' a' that ; 
But we'll liae aue frae 'mang oursels, 
A man we ken, an' a' that. 
For a' that, an' a' that, 
Here's Heron yet for a' that ! 
For we're not '^to be bought an' 

sold 
Like naigs, an' nowt, an' a' that. 

Then let us drink the Stewartry, 

Kerroughtree's laird, an' a that, 
Our representative to be, 

yor weel he's worthy a' that. 
For a' that, an' a' that. 
Here's Heron yet for a' that ! 
A House of Commons such as 

he. 
They would be blest that saw 
that. 



THE ELECTION. 

SECOND BALLAD. 

Fy, let us a' to Kirkcudbright, 

For there will be bickerin' there. 
For Murray's light-horse are to mus- 
ter. 

And O, how the heroes will swear I 
An' there will be Murray commander, 

And Gordon the battle to win ; 
Like brothers they'll stand by each 
other, 

Sae knit in alliance an' kin. 

And there will be black-lippet John- 
nie, 

The tongue of the trump to them a' ; 
And he gat na hell for his haddin' 

The Deil gets na justice ava' ; 
An' there will be Kempleton's birkie, 

A l)(\y na sae black at the bane. 
But, as for his fine nabob fortune, 

We'll e'en let the subject alane. 

An' there will be Wigton's new sheriff, 

Dame Justice fu' brawlie has sped. 
She's gotten the heart of a Bushby, 

But, Lord, what's become o''^the 
head ? 
An' there will be Cardoness, Esquire, 

Sae mighty in Cai'doness' eyes ; 
A wight that will weather damnation. 

For the Devil the prey will despise. 



An' there will be Douglasses doughty ^ 

New christening towns far and near! 
Abjuring their democrat doings, 

By kissing the — o' a peer ; 
An' there will be Kenmure sae gen' 
rous 

Whose honor is proof to the storm 
To save them from stark reprobation 

He lent them his name to the firm. 

But we wiima mention Redcastle, 

The body e'en let him escape ! 
He'd venture the gallows for siller. 

An' twere na the cost o' the rape. 
An' where is our King's lord lieuteii 
ant, 

Sae famd for his gratefu' return ? 
The billie is gettin" his questions. 

To say in St. Stephen's the morn. 

An' there will be lads o' the gospel, 

Muirhead wha's as good as he's true ; 
An' there will be Buittle's apostle, 

W^'^^'s more o' the black than the 
Dlue ; 
An' there will be folk from St. Mary &, 

A house o' great merit and note, 
The deil ane Imt honors them highl}^ — - 

The deii ane will gie them his vote ! 

An' there will be wealthy young Rich- 
ard, 

Dame Fortune should hing by the 
neck ; 
For prodigal, thriftless bestowing — 

His merit had won him respect : 
And there will be rich brother nabobs, 

Though nabobs, yet men of the first; 
An' there will be CoUieston's whiskers, 

An' Quinton, o' lads not the worst. 

An' there will be stamp-office Johnnie 

Tak tent how you purchase a dram. 
An' there will be gay Cassencarrie, 

An' there will be gleg Colonel Tam; 
An' there will be trusty Kerroughtree, 

Whose honour was ever his law, 
If the virtues were packed in a parcel, 

His worth would be sample for a'. 

An' can we forget the auld major, 
Wha'll ne'er be forgot in the Greys. 

Our flatt'ry we'll keep for someothei; 
Him onlj 'ti§ justice to praise. 



212 



JOHN BUSHBT'S LAMENTATIO'S. 



An' there will be maiden Kilkerran, 
And also Barskiniming'sgudeknighii ; 
An' Uiere will be roarin" Birt whistle, 
Wha, luckily, roars in the right. 

An' there, frae the Niddisdale's boi 
ders, 

Will mingle the Maxwells in droves; 
Teugh Johnnie, staunch Geordie, an' 
Wulie, 

That griens for the fishes an' loaves; 
An' there will be Logan McDowall, 

Sculdudd'ry an' he will be there, 
An' also the wild Scot o' Galloway, 

Sodgerin', gunpowder Blair. 

Then hey the chaste interest o' Brough- 
ton. 
An' hey for the blessings 'twill 
bring ! 
It may send Balmaghie to the Com- 
mons, 
In Sodom 'twould make him a King, 
An' hey for the sanctified Murray, 
Our land who with chapels has 
stor'd ; 
He foundered his horse among harlots, 
But gied the old nag to the Lord. 



AN EXCELLENT NEW 
SONG. 

THIRD BALLAD. (MAY, 1796.) 

Wha will buy my troggin. 

Fine election ware ; 
Broken trade o' Broughton, 
A' in high repair, ' 

Buy braw troggin, 

Frae the banks o' Dee ; 
Wha wants troggin 
Let him come to me. 

There's a noble Earl's, 

Fame and high renown. 
For an auld sang — 

It's thought the gudes were stown. 
Buy'braw toggin, &c. 

Here's the worth o' Broughton 

In a needle's ee ; 
Here's a reputation 

Tint by Balmaghie. 

Buy braw troggin, &c. 



Here's an honest conscience 

Might a prince adorn ; 
Frae the downs o' Tinwald— = 

So was never worn. 

Buy braw troggin, &c. 

Here's its stuff and lining, 

Cardoness' head ; 
Fine for a sodger 

A' the wale o' lead. 

Buy braw troggin, &c, 

Here's a little wadset 

Buittles scrap o' truth, 
Pawn'd in a gin-shop 

Quenching holy drouth. 
Buy braw troggin, &c. 

Here's armorial bearings 

Frae the manse o' Urr ; 
The crest, an auld crab-apple 

Rotten at the core. 

Buy braw troggin, &c. ] 

Here is Satan's picture, 

Like a bizzard gled, 
Pouncing poor Kedcastle 

Sprawlin' as a ted. 

Buy braw troggin, &c. 

Here's the worth and wisdom 

Collieston can boast ; 
By a thievish midge 

They had been nearly lost. 
Bu}" braw troggin, &c. 

Here is ^Murray's fragments 

O' the ten commands ; 
Gifted by black Jock 

To get them aff his hands. 
Buy braw troggin, &c. 

Saw ye e'er sic troggin ? 

If to buy ye're slack, 
Hornie's turnin' chapman, — 

He'll buy a' the pack. 

Buy braw troggin, &c. 

JOHN BUSHBY'S LAMEN^ 
TATION. 

Tune—" The Babes in the Wood." 

'TwAS in the seventeen hunder year 

O' grace and ninety -five. 
That year I was the wae'est mas 

O' ony man alive. 



TE SONS OF OLD EILLIE. 



213 



In March the three-and-twentieth 
morn, 

I'he sun was clear and bright ; 
But oh I was a waefu' man 

Ere to-fa o' the night. 

Yerl Gallowry lang did rule this land, 

Wi' equal right and fame. 
And thereto was bis kinsman join'd 

The Murray's noble name. 

Yerl Galloway lang did rule the land, 
Made me the judge o' strife ; 

But now Yeri Galloway's sceptre's 
broke, 
And eke my hangman's knife. 

'Twas by the banks o' bonie Cree, 
Beside Kirkcudbright's towers, 

The Stewart and the Murray there 
Did muster a' their powers. 

The Murray on the auld gray yaud, 
Wi' winged spurs did ride, 

That auld gray yaud, yea, Nidsdale 
rade. 
He staw upon Kidside. 

An' there had na been the yerl himsel/ 
O there had been nae play ; 

But Garlies was to London gane. 
And sae the kye might stray. 

And there was Balmaghie, I ween. 
In front rank he wad shine ; 

But Balmaghie had better been 
Drinking Madeira wine. 

Frae the Glenkins came to our aid, 
A chief o' doughty deed ; 



In case that worth should wanted be, 
O' Kenmure we had need. 

And by our banners march'd Muir- 
head, 

And Buittle was na slack ; 
Whase haly priesthood nane can stain, 

For wha can dye the black ? 

And there sae grave Squire Cardoness, 
Looked on till a' was done : 

Sae, in the tower of Cardouness, 
A howlet sits at noon. 

And there led I a Bushby clan; 

My gamesome billie Will ; 
And my son Maitland, wise as brave, 

My footsteps follow'd still. 

The Douglas and the Heron's name 
We set nought to their score ; 

The Douglas and the Heron's name 
Had felt our weight before. 

But Douglasses o' weight had we, 

The pair o' lusty lairds, 
For building cot-houses sae famed. 

And christening kail-yards. 

And there Redcastle drew his sword., 
That ne'er was stained with gore. 

Save on a wanderer lame and blind, 
To drive him frae his door. 

And last came creeping Collieston, 
Was mair in fear than wrath ; 

Ae knave was constant in his mind. 
To keep that knave frae scaith. 



YE SONS OF OLD KILLIE. 

Tune—" Shawnboy." 

Ye sons of old Killie, assembled by Willie, 

To follow the noble vocation ; 
Your thrifty old mother, has scarce such another 

To sit in that honour'd station. 
I've little to sa}^, but only to pray, 

As praying's the ton of your fashion ; 
A prayer from the Muse you well may excuse, 

'Tis seldom her favorite passion. 

Ye powers who preside o'er the wind and the tide. 
Who marked each element's border ; 

Who formed this frame with beneficent airn, 
Whose sovereign statute is order ; 



274 



WHAI^ I SLEEP I DREAM. 



Within this dear mansion may wayward contention 

Or withered envy ne'er enter ; 
May secrecy round be the mystical bound, 

And brotherly love be the centre ! 



YE JACOBITES BY NAME. 

Tune—" Ye Jacobites by name." 

Ye Jacobites by name, give an ear, give an ear ; 
Ye Jacobites by name, give an ear ; 
Ye Jacobites by name, 
Your fautes 1 will proclaim, 
Your doctrines I maun blame — 
You shall hear. 

What is righc and what is wrang, by the law, by the law 
What is right and what is wrang by the law ? 
What is right and what is wrang ? 
A short sw*ord and a lang, 
A weak arm, and a Strang 
For to draw. 

What makes heroic strife, fam'd afar, fam'd afar. 
What makes heroic strife fam'd afar ? 
What makes heroic strife ? 
To whet th' assassin's knife. 
Or to hunt a parent's life 
Wi' bluidie war. 

Then let your schemes alone, in tlie state, in the state ; 
Then let your schemes alone in the state ; 
Then let your schemes alone,. 
Adore the rising sun, 
And leave a man undone 
To his fate. 



SONG— AH, CHLORIS. 

TUNK— " Major Graham." 

Ah, Chloris, since it may na be, 
That thou of love wilt hear ; 

If from the lover thou maun flee, 
Yet let the friend be dear. 

Altho' I love my Chloris mair 
Than ever tongue could tell ; 

My passion I will ne'er declare, 
I'll say, I wish thee well. 

Tho' a' my daily care thou art, 
And a' my nightly dream, 

I'll hide the' struggle in my hearty, 
And say it is esteem. 



WHAN I SLEEP I DREAM. 

Whan I sleep I dream. 

When I wauk I'm eerie. 
Sleep I canna get. 

For thinking o' my dearie. 



Lanely night comes on, 

A' the house are sleeping, 
I think on the bonie lad 

That has my heart a keeping. 
Ay waukin O, waukin ay and 

wearie. 
Sleep I cannot get, for thinking 
o' my dearie- 



THE HEATHER WAS BLOOMING. 



215 



Lanely night comes on, 

A' the house are sleeping, 
I think on my bonie lad, 

An' I bleer my een wi' greetin' ! 
Ay waukin, &c. 

KATHARINE JAFFRAY. 

There liv'd a lass in yonder dale, 
And down in yonder glen, O ; 

And Katharine JatTray was her name, 
Weel known to many men, O. 

Out came the Lord of Lauderdale, 
Out frae the south countrie, O, 

All for to court this pretty maid. 
Her bridegroom for to be, O, 

He's tell'd her father and mother baith, 

As I hear sindry say, O ; 
But he has na tell'd the lass hersel' 

Till on her wedding day, O. 

Then came the Laird o' Lochinton 
Out frae the English border, 

All for to court this pretty maid. 
All mounted in good order. 

THE COLLIER LADDIE. 

O WHARE live ye my bonie lass, 
And tell me how they ca' ye ? 
My name, she says, is Mistress Jean, 
And I follow my Collier laddie. 

see ye not yon hills and dales 
The sun shines on sae brawly ; 

They a' are mine, and they shall be 
thine. 
If ye'll leave your Collier laddie. 

And ye shall gang in rich attire, 
Weel buskit up fu' gaudy ; 

And ane to wait at every hand, 
If ye'll leave your Collier laddie. 

The' ye had a' the sun shines on, 
And the earth conceals sae lowly ; 

1 would turn my back on you and it a', 
And embrace my Collier laddie. 



I can win my five pennies in a day, 
And spend it at night full brawlie ; 

I can make my bed in the Collier's 
neuk, 
And lie down wi' my Collier laddie 

Loove for loove is the bargain for me, 
Tho' the wee cot-house should hand 
me ; 
And the warld before me to win my 
bread, 
And fare fa' my Collier laddie. 

WHEN I THINK ON THE 
HAPPY DAYS. 

When I think on the happy days 
I spent wi' you, my dearie ; 

And now what lands between us iie. 
How can I be but eerie ! 

How slow ye move, ye heavy hours 
As ye were wae and weary ! 

It was na sae ye glinted by 
When I was wi' my dearie. 

YOUNG JAMIE, PRIDE OP 
A' THE PLAIN. 

Tune—" The Carlin o' the Glen." 

Young Jamie, pride of a ' the plain, 
Sae gallant and sae gay a swain ; 
Tho' a' our lasses he did rove. 
And reign'd resistless King of Love ; 
But now wi' sighs and starting tears. 
He strays amang the woods and briers; 
Or in the glens and rocky caves 
His sad complaining dowie raves : 

I wha sae late did range and rove, 
And changed with every moon my love, 
I little thought the time was near. 
Repentance I should buy sae dear ; 
The slighted maids my torment see, 
And laugh at a' the pangs I dree ; 
While she, my cruel, scjornfu' fair. 
Forbids me e'er to see her mair I 



THE HEATHER WAS BLOOMING. 

The heather was blooming, the meadows were mawn. 
Our lads gaed a hunting, ae day at the dawn. 
O'er moors and o'er mosses and niouie a glen, 
At length they discovi3r'd a bonie moor-hcn. 



276 EPPIE M'NAB. 

I red you beware at the hunting, young men ; 
I red you beware at the hunting, young men ; 
Tak some on the wing, and some as they spring, 
But cannily steal on a bonie moor-lien. 

Sweet brushing the dew from the brown heather bells, 
Her colours betray'd her on yon mossy fells ; 
Her plumage out-lustered the pride o' the spring, 
And O ! as she wunton'd gay on the wing. 
I red, &c. 

Auld Pho'bus himsel, as he peep'd o'er the hill. 
In spite at her plumage he tried his skill : 
He levell'd his rays where she b?.sk'd on the brae — 
His rays were outshone, and but mark'd where she lay. 
I red, &c. 

They hunted the valley, they hunted the hill. 
The best of our lads wi' the best o' their skill ; 
But still as the fairest she sat in their sight, 
Then, whirr ! she was over, a mile at a flight. 
I red, &c. 

WAE IS MY HEART. 

Wae is my heart, and the tear's in my ee ; 
Lang, laug, joy's been a stranger to me : 
Forsaken and friendless my burden I bear. 
And the sweet voice o' pity ne'er sounds in my ear. 

Love, thou hast pleasures ; and deep hae I loved ; 
Love, thou hast sorrows ; and sair hae I proved : 
But this bruised heart that now bleeds in my breast 
J can feel its throbbings will soon be at rest, 

O if I were where happy I hae been ; 
Down by yon stream and yon bonie castle green : 
For there he is wand 'ring and musing on me, 
Wha wad soon dry the tear frae Phillis's ee. 

EPPIE M'NAB. 

O SAW ye my dearie, my Eppie M'Nab V 
O saw ye my dearie, my Eppie M'Nab ? 
She s down in the yard, she's kissin' the laird. 
She winna come hame to her ain Jock llab. 
O come thy ways to me, my Eppie M'Nab ! 
O come thy ways to me, my Eppie M'Nab ! 
Whal'er tlion has done, be it late, be it soon, 
Thou's welcome again to thy ain Jock Rab, 

What s?ys she, my dearie, my Eppie M'Nab ? 
What says she, my dearie, my Eppie M'Nal ? 
She lets thee to wit, that she 'has thee forgot, 
And for ever disowns thee, her ain Jock Kab. 
O had I ne'er seen thee, my Eppie ]\I'Nab 1 
O had I ne'er seen thee, my Eppie M'Nab ! 
As light as the air, and faiise as thou's fair, 
Tliou's broken the heart o' thy ain Jock R^b, 



'^HEBE'S NEWS, LA88IES, 



277 



AW O ! MY EPPIE. 

An' O ! my Eppie, 
My jewel, my Eppie ! 
Wha wadna be happy 

Wi' Eppie A-dair ? 
By love, and by beauty, 
By law, and by duty, 
I swear to be true to 

My Eppie Adair I 

An' O ! my Eppie, 
My jewel , my Eppie I 
Wlia wadna be happy 

Wi' Eppie Adair ? 
A' pleasure exile me. 
Dishonor detile me, 
If e'er I beguile thee. 

My Eppie Adair ? 



GUDEENTO YOU, KIMMER. 

GuDEEN to you, Kimmer, 

And how do ye do ? 
Hiccup, quo' Kimmer, 
The better that I'm fou. 

We're a' noddin, nid nid noddin. 
We're a' noddin at our house at 
hame. 

Kate sits i' the neuk, 

Suppin' hen broo ; 
Deil tak Kate 

An' she be a noddin too ! 
We're a noddin, &c. 

1 How's a' wi' you, Kimmer, 
I And how do ye fare ? 

A pint o' the best o't, 
And twa pints mair. 
We're a' noddin, &c. 

How's a' wi' you, Kimmer, 
And how do ye thrive ; 

How many bairns hae ye ? 
Quo' Kimmer, I hae five. 
We're a' noddin, &c. 

Are they a' Johny's ? 
Eh 1 atweel no : 



Twa o' them were gotten 

When Johny was awa. 

We're a' noddin, &jc. 

Cats like milk. 

And dogs like broo ; 
Lads like lasses weel. 

And lassies lads too. 
We're a' noddin, &c. 



THAT I HAD NE'ER 
BEEN MARRIED. 

O THAT I had ne'er been married, 

1 wad never had nae care ; 
Now I've gotten wife and bairns. 

An' they cry crowdie ever mair. 
Ance crowdie, twice crowdie. 

Three times crowdie in a day ; 
Gin ye crowdie ony more, 

Ye'll crowdie a' my meal away, 

Waeful want and hunger fley me, 
Glowrin by the hallen en'; 

Sair I fecht them at the door. 
But ay I'm eerie they come ben, 
Ance crowdie, &c. 



THERE'S NEWS, LASSES. 

There's news, lasses, news, 

Gude news I've to tell. 
There's a boat f u' o' lads 
Come to our town to sell. 
The wean wants a cradle. 

An' the cradle wants a cod. 
An' I'll no gang to my bed 
Until I get a nod. 

Father, quo' she, Mither, quo' she, 

Do what ye can, 
I'll no gang to my bed 

Till I get a man. 
The wean, &c. 

I hae as good a craft rig 
As made of yird and stane ; 

And waly f u' the ley crap 
For I maun till'd again. 
The wean, &c. 



278 



THE BONIS LASS OF ALBANY. 



SCROGGAM. 

There was a wife wonn'd in Cockpen, 

Scroggam ; 
She brew'd good ale for gentlemen. 
Sing auld Cowl, lay you down by me, 
Scroggam, my dearie, rutfum. 

The gudewife' dochster fell in a fever, 

Scroggam ; 
The priest o' the parish fell in anither, 
Sing auld Cowl, lay you down by me, 
Scroggam, my dearie, ruilum. 

They laid the twa i' the bed thegither, 

Scroggam ; 
That the heat o' the tane might cool 

the tither. 
Sing auld Cowl, lay you down by me, 
Scroggam, my dearie, ruffum. 



FRAE THE FRIENL S AND 
LAND I LOVE. 

Frae the friends and land I love. 

Driven by Fortune's felly spite.. 
Frae my best belov'd I rove, 

Never mair to taste delight ; 
Kever mair maun hope to find 

Ease frae toil, relief frae care : 
When remembrance wrecks the mind. 

Pleasures but unveil despair. 

Brightest climes shall mirk appear, 

Desart ilka blooming shore. 
Till the Fates nae mair severe. 

Friendship, love, and peace restore; 
Till revenge, wi' laurell'd head, 

Bring our banish'd hame again ; 
And ilka loyal, bonie lad 

Cross the seas and win his ain. 



THE LADDIES BY THE 
BANKS OF NITH. 

ELECTION BALLAD, 1789. 

Tune—" Up aiid waur them a'." 

The laddies by the banks o' Nith 

Wad trust his Grace wi' a', Jamie, 
But he'll sair them as he sair'd the 

King- 
Turn tail and rin awa, Jamie. 



Up and waur them a*, Jami6, 
Up and waur them a'; 

The Johnstons hae the guidin'o't, 
Ye turncoat Whigs, aw a. 

The day he stude his country's friend, 
Or gied her faes a claw, Jamie. 

Or frae puir man a blessin' wan, 
That day the duke ne'er saw, Jamie, 

But wha is he, his country's boast ? 

Like him there is na twa, Jamie ; 
There's no a callant tculs the kye. 

But kens o' Westcrha', Jamie. 

To end the wark, here's Whistlebirk, 
Lang may his whistle blaw, Jamie ; 

And Maxwell true o' sterling blue, 
And we'll be Johnstons a', Jamie. 

THE BONIE LASS OF 
ALBANY. 

Tune—" Mary's dream." 
My heart is wae, and unco' wae. 

To think upon the raging sea, 
That roars between her gardens green 

And the bonie Lass of Albany. 

This lovel}^ maid's of royal blood 
That ruled Albion's kingdoms three, 

But oh, alas, for her bonie face. 
They hae wrang'd the Lass of 
Albany. 

In the rolling tide of spreading Clyde 
There sits an isle of high degree, 

And a town of fame whose princely 
name 
Should grace the Lass of Albany. 

But there's a youth, a witless youth. 
That fills the place where she should 
be; 

We'll send him o'er to his native shore, 
And bring our ain sweet Albany. 

Alas the day, and wo the day ! 

A false usurper wan the gree, 
Who now commands the towers and 
lands — 

The royal right of Albany. 

We'll daily pray, we'll nightly pray, 
On bended knees most ferventlie. 
The time may come, with pipe and 
drum 
We'll welcome hame fair Albany, 
I _- 



m^^a. 



279 



When first I saw fair Jeanie's face, 

I conidna tell what ailed me, 
My heart went fluitering pit-a-pat. 

My een they almost failed me. 
Slie's ay sae neat, sae trim, sae tight, 

All grace doth round her hover, 
Ae look deprived me o' my heart, 

And I became a lover. 
She's aye, aye sae blythe, sae gay. 

She's aye sae blythe and cheerie ; 
She's aye sae bonie, blythe, and gay, 

O gin I were her dearie ! 

Had 1 Dundas's whole estate, 

Or Hopetoun's wealth to shine in ; 

Did warlike laurels crown my brow. 
Or humbler bays entwining— 



SONG. 

Tune—" Maggie Lauder.' » 

I'd lay them a' at Jeanie's feet. 

Could I but hope to move her. 
And prouder than a belted kniglit, 
I'd be my Jeanie's lover. 
She's aye, aye sae blythe, sae 
gay, &c. 



But sair I fear some happier swain 

Has gained sweet Jeanie's favoui 
If so may every bliss be hers, 

Though I maun never have her : 
But gang she east, or gang she west, 

'Twixt Forth and Tweed all over, 
While men have eyes, or ears,or taste. 

She'll ahvays find a lover. 

She's aye, aye sae blythe, sae 
gay, &c. 



APPENDIX 



ji The following Elegy, Extempore Verses to Gavin Hamilton, and Versides on 
'Sign-posts, now for the first time published, are extracted, it is supposed from 
the copy of his GouDnon-place Book which Burns presented to Mrs. Duulop, of 
Dunlop. The copy, after having been in the liands of several persons, and at 
each remove denuded of certain pages, came into the possession of Mr. Stillie, 
bookseller, Princes Street, Edinburgh, some years since, and is now the property 
of Mr. Macmillan. Besides the following p'oems, it contains two stanzas never 
before published of the Epitaph on Robert Fergusson, versions of Thereicasa Lad 
was horn in Kyle, and Gordon Castle, differing in some respects from those com- 
monly printed : all of which have been embodied in the notes to the present 
edition. In the Gommon-jjlace Boole the Elegy is thus introduced : — " The fol- 
lowing poem is the work of some hapless unknown son of the Muses, who de- 
served a better fate. There is a good deal of * The Voice of Cona,'in hissolitar}^ 
mournful notes ; and liad the sentiments beeji clothed in Shenstone's language, 
they would have been no discredit even to that elegant poet." Burns, it will be 
seen, docs not claim the authorship, and, from internal evidence, the Editor is 
of opinion that it was not written by him. Still, the Elegy, so far at least as 
the Editor is aware, exists nowhere else ; and if Burns did not actually com- 
pose it, he at least thought it worthy of being copied with his own hand into a 
book devoted almost exclusively to his own compositions. Even if it were cer- 
tain that Burns was not the author, still, the knowledge that he admired it, and 
that through his agency it alone exists, is considered sufficient excuse for its 
admission here. The Extempore Verses to Gavin Hamilton are as certainly 
Burns's as is Death and Dr. Hornbook, or the Address to the Deil. The dialect, 
the turn of phrase, the glittering surface of sarcasm, with the strong under- 
current of sense, and the peculiar off-hand impetuosity of idea and illustration, 
unmistakeably indicate Burns's hand, and his onl3^ In the Common-jjlact 
Book, no date is given ; but from the terms of the two closing stanzas, it would 
appear that the voyage to Jamaica was in contemplation at the period of its 
composition. The last stanza is almost identical in thought and expression 
with the closing lines of the well-known Dedication to Gaun Hamilton, which 
was written at that time, and which appeared in the first edition of the Poems 
printed at Kilmarnock. 

The Versicles on Sign-posts have the following introduction : — " The everlast 
ing surliness of a Lion, Saracen's head, &c., or the unchanging blandness ot 
the landlord welcoming a traveller, on some sign-posts, would be no bad 
similes of the constant affected fierceness of a Bully, or the eternal simper of a 
Frenchman or a Fiddler." The Versicles themselves are of little worth, and 
are Indebted entirely to their paternity for their appearance here 



APPENDIX. 



281 



Elegy. 

Strait rs the spot and green the sod, 
From whence my sorrows flow : 

And soundly sleeps the ever dear 
Inhabitant below. 

Pardon my transport, gentle shade, 
While o'er the turf I bow ! 

Thy earthly house is circumscrib'd. 
And solitary now. 

Not one poor stone to tell thy name. 
Or make thy virtues known : 

But what avails to me, to thee, 
The sculpture of a stone ? 

I'll sit me down upon this turf. 

And wipe away this tear : 
The chill blast passes swiftly by. 

And flits around thy bier. 

Dark is the dwelling of the Dead, 
And sad their house of rest : 

Low lies the head by Death's cold arm 
In aw^ful fold embrac'd. 

I saw the grim Avenger stand 

Incessant by thy side ; 
Unseen by thee, his deadly breath 

Thy lingering frame destroy 'd. 

Pale grew the roses on thy cheek, 
And wither'd was thy bloom, 

Till the slow poison brought thy youth 
Untimely to the tomb. 

Thus wasted are the ranks of men. 
Youth, Health, and Beauty fall 

The ruthless ruin spreads around, 
And overwhelms us all. 

Behold where round thy narrow house 
The graves unnumber'd lie ! 

The multitudes that sleep below 
Existed but to die. 

Some, with the tottering steps of age, 
Trod down the darksome way ; 

And some, in youth's lamented prime, 
Like thee, were torn away. 

Vet these, however hard thy fate. 
Their native earth receives ; 

Amid their weeping friends they died, 
And fill their fathers' graves. 



From thy lov'd friends when first thy 
heart 

Was taught by Heaven to flow ; 
Far, far remov'd, the ruthless stroka 

Surpris'd and laid thee low. 

At the last limits of our isle, 
Wash'd by the western wave, 

Touch'd by thy fate, a thoughtful bard 
Sits lonely on thy grave. 

Pensive he eyes, before him spread. 
The deep, outstretch'd and vast ; 

His mourning notes are borne away 
Along the rapid blast. 

And while, amid the silent Dead 
Thy hapless fate he mourns. 

His own long sorrows freshly bleed. 
And all his grief returns. 

Like thee, cut off in early youth 
And flower of beauty's pride. 

His friend, his first and only joy, 
His much loved Stella, died. 

Him, too, the stern impulse of Fate 

Resistless bears along ; 
And the same rapid tide shall whelm 

The Poet and the Song. 

The tear of pity which he shed. 

He asks not to receive ; 
Let but his poor remains be laid 

Obscurely; in the grave. 

His grief -worn heart, with truest joy^ 
Shall meet the welcome shock : 

His airy harp shall lie unstrung 
And silent on the rock. 

O, my dear maid, my Stella, when 
Shall this sick period close : 

And lead the solitary bard 
To his beloved repose ? 



EXTEMPORE. 

TO MR. GAVIN HAMILTON. 

To you, Sir, this summons I've sent. 
Pray whip till the pownie is frae 
thing ; 

But if you demand what I want, 
I honestly answer you, naething. 



282 



APPENDIX 



Ne'er scorn a poor Poet like me. 
For idly just living and breathing, 

"While people of every degree 
Are busy employed about — naeth- 
ing. 

Poor Centum-per-centum may fast, 
And grumble his burdies their claitli- 
ing; 

He'll find, when the balance is cast, 
He's gane to the devil for— naething. 

The courtier cringes and bows, 

Ambition has likewise its plaything ; 

A coronet beams on his brows ; 
And what is a coronet ? — naething. 

Some quarrel the Presbyter gown, 
Some quarrel Episcop\l graithing. 

But every good fellow witl own 
Their quarrel is all about — naeth 
ing. 

The lover may sparkle and glow. 
Approaching his bonie bit gay thing: 

But marriage will soon let him know 
He's gotten a buskit up naething. 

The Poet may jingle and rhyme 
In hopes of a laureate wreathing, 

And when he has wasted his time 
He's kindly rewarded with naething. 

The thundering bully may rage, 
And swagger and swear like a 
heathen ; 
But collar him fast, I'll engage, 
You'll find that his courage is naeth- 
ing. 

Last night with a feminine whig, 
A Poet she could na put faith in. 

But soon we grew lovingly big, 

I taught her, her terrors were naeth- 
ing. 

Her whigship was wonderful pleased, 
But charmingly tickled wi' ae' thing; 

Her fingers I lovingly squeezed, 
And kissed her and promised her — 
naething, 



The priest anathemas may threat,— 
Predicament, Sir, that were baith 
in ; 

But when honour's reveille is beat. 
The holy artillery's naething. 

And now, I must mount on the wave, 
My voyage perhaps there is death 
in : 

But what of a watery grave ? 
The drowning a Poet is naething. 

And now, as grim death's in my 
thought, 
To you. Sir, I make this bequeath- 
ing : 
My service as long as ye've aught, 
And my friendship, by G — , when 
ye've naething. 



VERSICLES ON SIGN- 
POSTS. 

He looked 
Just as your Sign-post lions do. 
As fierce, and quite as harmless too. 

PATIENT STUPIDITY. 

So heavy, passive to the tempests' 

shocks. 
Strong on the Sign-post stands the 

stupid Ox. 



His face with smile eternal drest. 
Just like the Landlord to his guest,^ 
High as they hang with creaking din, 
To index out the Country Inn. 



A head, pure, sinless" quite of brain 

and soul. 
The very image of a Barber's Poll ; 
It shows a human face and wears a 

wig. 
And looks, when well pieservcd. 

amazing big. 



GLOSSARY. 



A\ all 

Aback, away from 

Abeigb, at a shy distance 

A boon, above 

Abread, abroad, in sight 

Abreed, in breadth 

Abusin', abusing 

Acquent, acquainted 

A'-tlay, all day 

Adle, xtvtrid ivater 

Advistinent, advice 

Ac, one ; only 

All, off' 

All hand, at once 

Aff-loof, extempoi^anemisly 

Afore, before 

Aften, often 

A-gley, off the right line 

Aiblins, perhajys 

Aik, an oak 

Aiken, oaken 

Ain, oivn 

Air, early 

Airl-penny, earnest money 

Airles, earnest money 

Aim, iron 

Aims, iivns 

Airt, direction I the point from 

which the wind blow's; to 

direct 
Airted, directed 
Aith, an oath 
Aiths, oaths 
Aits, oats 

Aiver, an old horse 
Aizle, a hot cinder 
Ajee, to the one side 
Alake 1 alas! 
Alang, along 
Amaist, almost 
Amang, among 
An', and 
An's, and is 
Ance, once 
Ane, one 
Anes, ones 
A.nither, another 
Artfu', artful 
Ase, ashes 

A sklent, obliquely ; aslant 
A steer, astir 
A'thegiiber, altogether 
Athort, athwart 
Atween, betioeen 
Aught, eight 
Anghteen, eighteen 
Aughtlins, anything, in the 

least 
Auld, old 
Auld's, as old as 
Aulder, older 
Auldfarran, sagac'ums 



Aumons, alms 
Ava, at all 
Awa, away 
Awe, to owe 
Awee, a. little time 
Awfu', awfnl 
Awkart, awkward 
Awuie, bearded 
Ay, ahvays 
Ayont, beyond 



BA', a ball 

Babie-clouts, baby-clothes 
Backets, buckets 
Bade, endured / desired 
Baggie ^dim. of bag)^ the 

stomach 
Bainif, bony, mvscnlar 
Bairns, children 
Bairntime, a family of children 
Baitb, both 
Bakes, bisctiits 
Bailats, ballads 
Ban', band 
Banes, bones 
Bang, a stroke. An nnco bang, 

a heavy stroke w effoj^ 
Bannet, a b^iinet 
Bannock, a calce of oatmeal 

bread 
Bardie, dim. of bard 
Barefit, barefooted 
Barkit, barked 
Barkin, barking 
Barm, yeast 

Barmie, of, or like barm 
Bat'h, a party 
Batts, the botts 
Bauckie-birti, the bat 
Baudions, a cat 
Banks, cross-beams 
Bauk-en', e}id of a bank or 

cross-beam 
Bauld, bold 
Bauidly, boldly 
Baumy, balmy 

Bawk, an open space in a corn- 
field, generally a ridge left 

untitled 
Baws'nt, having a ivhite stripe 

down the face 
Bawtie, a familiar name for a 

dog 
Be't, be it 
Bear, barley 
Beastie, dim. of beast 
Beets, addsfttel to fire 
Befa', befall 
Behint, behind 
Belang, belong to 
Belang'd, belonged to 



Bel«i, -oata 

Bellum, a nmse, an attack 

Bellyfu', bellyful 

Belyve, by and by 

Ben, into (he speitce oi' parlour 

Benmost bove, the innermost 

recess, or hole 
Bethankit, the grace after meat 
B^ uk, a book 

Devil's pictur'ci benks, cards 
Bicker, a wooden dish.; a few 

steps unwittingly 
Bid, to wish, or ask 
Bide, to stand, to endure 
Biel, a habitation 
Bield, shelter 
Bien, plentiful 
comfortably 
Big, to build 
Bigg, to build 
Bigs, builds 
Biggin, building 
Bill, a bull 
Billie, a good fellow 
Billies, yung fellows 
Bings, heaps of anything, such 

as turnips, potato s 
Birdies, dim. of birds 
Birk, the birch 
Birk s, birches 
Birken, birchen 
Birk en ehaw, a small bi?'ch 

wood 
Birkie, a sririted fellow 
Birring, whirring 
Birses, bristles 
Bit, crisis 
Bizzard gled, a kite 
Bizz, a bustle 
Bizzy, busy 
Bizzie, busy 
Bizzies, buzzes 
Black Bonnet, the elder 
Blae, blue ; .'harp, keen 
Elastic, a tei m of contempt 
Blastit, blasted, withered 
Blate, shamefaced 
Blather, bladder 
Blaud, to slap 

a quantity of anything 
WiSLMdhi' , pelting 
Blaw, to blow / to brag 
Blaws, blows 
Blawn. blown 
Blawn't, had blo^vn it 
Bleatin, bleating 
Bleerit, bleared 
Bleeze, a blaze 
Bleezin, blazing 
Blellum, an idle talkbig fellow 
Blether, the bladder ; nonsense 
Blethers, nonsense 



'' -J. 



284 



GLOSSAUT. 



Bleth'rin, talking idly 

Biin', blind 

Blins, blinded 

Blink, a blink o' rest, a short 
period of rtpote / a short 
time / a niouie/if / a look 

Blinks, looks smilirigiij 

Blinkers, a term of contempt / 
pretty f/irls 

Blmkiii, s'nirking 

Blirt and bl n.T) , Jits of crying 

Blitter, the rnbv, Shipe 

Blue gown, one of those beggars 
who get aiin'ndly at the 
king's bb'th-dny a blue coat 
or goivn with a badge 

Blade, blood 

Bluid, Uood 

Bludie, Moody 

Bluidy, bloody 

Blume, bloom 

Bluntie, a sniveller, a stitpid 
person 

Blypes, large pieces 

Bocked, vomited 

Boddle, a small coin 

Boggle, dim. of bog 

Bogles, ghosts 

Bonie, beautiful 

Bon nocks, thick cakes of oat 
meal bread 

Boord, board 

Boortrees, elder shrubs 

Boost, inust needs 

Bore, a hole or rent 

Bonk, a corpse 

Bouses, drinks 

Bow-hough'd, crook-thighed 

Bow-kail, cabbage 

Bovv't, crooked 

Brae, the slope of a hill 

Braid, broad 

Braid iSco.s, broad Scotch 

Braid-claith, broad-cloth 

Braik, a kind ot' harrow 

Braing't, reeled for ward 

Bvsik,^did breaJc 

Brak's, broke Ms 

Brankie, well attired 

Branks, a kind of wooden curb 
for horses 

Brauy, brandy 

Bra-»h, sickness 

Brats, rags 

Brattl ■, a short race 

Braw, handsome 

Brawly, pzrftctly 

Braxies, morbid sheep 

Breastie, dim. of breast 

Breastit, did spnng up or for- 
ward 

Brechan, a horse-collar 

Breckan,/erM 

Bree, jidce,liguid 

Breeks, breeches 

Brent, straight; smooth, un- 
zvnnkled 

Brewin, brewing 

Brief, a meriting 

Brig, bridge 

J3rither, brother 



^rithers, brothers 

Brock, a badger 

Brogue, a trick 

Brob, water ; broth 

Brooses, racts at country wed 
dings who shall fi?'st reach 
the bridegrootn's house on 
ret urn i n gfrom chu rch 

Browst, as much malt I'quor as 
is brewed at a time 

Browster-w ives, ale-house 
xvives 

Brngn, burgh 

Biughs, boroughs 

Biulzio, a broil 

Brunstane, brimstone 

Brunt, burned 

Brust, bwnt 

Buckie, dim. of buck 

Buck.'^kin, an inhabitant of 
Virginia 

Buff, to beat 

Bughtin-tinie, the time of col- 
lecting the sheep in the pens 
to be milked 

Buirdly, strong, imposing- 
looking, zvell-knit 

Buke, book 

Bum, to hum 

Bum-clock, a beetle 

Bumming, making a noise like 
a. bee 

Bummle, a blunderer 

Bunker, a chest 

B'lrdies, damsels 

Bure, bore, did bear 

Burns, streams 

Burnie, dim. of burn 

Burncwin, i e. burn the wind, 
a blacksmith 

Bur-thistle, the spear-thistce 

Busking, dressing, decorating 

Buskit, dressed 

Busks, adorns 

Buss, a bush 

Bussle, a bu-tle 

But, without 

But an' ben, kitchen and par- 
lour 

V>Y,i)asi; apart 

By attour, in the neighbour- 
hood, outside 

Byke, a multitude : a he^-Hv^ 



CA', to drive ; a call 

Ca'd, named ; driven 

Ca's, calls 

Ca"t, called 

Ca' throu', to push forward 

Cadger, a carrier 

Cadie, a fellow 

Caff, chaff 

Cairds, tinkers 

Calf-ward, a small inclosure 

for calves 
Callans, boys 
CaUer, fresh 
Callet, a trull 
Cam, came 
Cankert, cankered ' 



Cankrie, eanlcerei 

Canna, cannot 

Cannie, carefully, eoftLy 

CanniJie, dexterously 

Can tie, in high spirits 

Cantin', canting 

Cantrip, a charm, a speU 

Cape-stane, cope-stone 

Cap'rin, capering 

Careerin, cheerfully 

Carl, a carle 

Carlie, dim. of carle 

Carlin, an old woman 

Cartes, cards 

Cartie, dim. of cart 

Caudrons, cauldrons 

Cauf, a calf 

Cauk and keel, chalk and red 
clay 

Cauld, cold 

Caulder, colder 

Caups, ivooden dt'inking vessels 

Causey, causeway 

Cavie, a hen-coop 

Cliamer, chamber 

Change-house, a tave7-n 

Chap, a fellow 

Chapman, a pedlar 

Chaup, a bloiv 

Cheeii for chow, cheek by jowl 

Cheep, cMrp 

Cheerfu', cheerful 

Chiels, young fellov^s 

Cbimla, chimney 

Chimlie, chimney 

Chi' tering. trembling with cold 

Chows, cheivs 

Chuckie, dim. of chuck 

Chiistendie, Christendom 

Chuffie, fat-faced 

Clachan, a hamlet 

Claise, clothes 

Claith, cloth 

Claith'd, cloth'd 

Claithlng, cl thing 

Clamb, clomb 

Clankie, a sharp stroke 

Clap, a clapper 

Clark, clerkly, pertaining to 
erudition 

Clark it, wrote 

Clarty, dirty 

Clash, idle talk ; to talk 

Clatter, to talk idly 

Kintra clatter, the talk pf 
the country 

Claught, caught 

Clanghtin, catching at any- 
thing greedily 

Claut, to snatch at, to lay hold 
of a quantify scrai ed to- 
gether by niggardlin£SS 

Clautet, scraped 

Claver, clover 

Clavers, idle stories 

Claw, scratch 

Clean, handsome 

Cleckin, a brood 

Clesd. to clothe 

deeding, clothing 

Cleek, to seize 



GLOSSARY. 



285 



Cleekit, linked themselves 

Clegs, gad-flies 

Cliuk, to rhyme I money 

Clinkin, sitting doxon suddenly 

Clinkumbell, the church tsll- 
ringer 

Clips, shears 

Clishniaclaver, idle conversa- 
tion 

Clockin-time, hatching-time 

Cloot, the hoof 

Clootie, Satan 

Clours, bumps or swellings 
after a bloio 

Clout, to patch ^ a patch 

Clouts, clothes 

Chid, a cloud 

Cluds, multitudes 

Clue, a portion of cloth or yarn 

Clunk, the sound emitttd by 
liquor ivhen shaken in a 
cask or bottle, when the cask 
or bottle is half empty 

Coatie, dim. of coat 

Coaxin, coaxing 

Coble, a fishing-boat 

Cock, to erect 

Cockie, dim. of cock, a good 
fellow 

Cocks, good fellows 

Cod, a pillow 

Co'er, to cover 

Coft, bought 

Cog, a wooden dish 

Coggie, dim. of cog 

Coila, from Kyle, a district of 
Ayrshire, so called, saith 
tradition, from Coil, or 
Coila, a Pictii>h monarch 

Collie, a country dog 

Collieshangie, an uproar, a 
quarrel 

Commans, commandments 

Comin', coming 

•^cmpleenin, complaining 

Convf rse, conversation 

Cood, the cud 

Coofs, fools, ninnies 

Cookit, that appeared and dis- 
appeared by fits 

Coost, did cast 

Cootie, a wooden kitchen dish ; 
Foivls 10 hose legs are clad 
with feathers are also said 
to be coolie 

Corbies, crows 

Corn't, fed toith oats 

Corss, the market-place 

Couldna, could not 

Counted, considered 

Countra, country 

Conr, to cower 

Couthie, kindly, loving 

Cowe, to terrify. Cowe the ca- 
die, terrify the fellow ; to 
lop ; a fright 

Cowp the cran, to tumble over 

Cowpet, tumbled 

Cowpit, tumbled 

Cow'rin, coioering 

Cpwr, to cower 



Cowt, a colt 

Cowte, a colt 

Cozie, cozy 

Crabbit, crabbed 

Crack, a story w harangue • 

talk 
Crackin, conversbig, gossiping 
Craft, a croft 
Craft rig, a croft ridge 
Craig, the throat 
Craigie, dim, of craig, the 

throat 
Craig-^, crags 
Craigy, craggy 
Crailis, land? ails 
Crambo-clink, rhymes 
Crambo-jingle, rhymes 
Crankous, irritated 
Cranreuch, hoar frost 
Crap, to CIV]} 
Craps, civps 
Craw, to ovw 
Crawliu, crawling 
Creel, my senses wad be in a 

creel, to be crazed, to be 

fascinated 
Creepie chair, the chair or stool 

of repentance 
Creeshie, greasy 
Crocks, old 
Crooded, cooed 
Croods, coos 
Cronie, a comrade 
Croon, a hollow and continued 

moan 
Crouchie, crook-backed 
Crouse, gleefully, ivith spirit 
Crowdie, porridge 
Crowdie-time, breakfast-time 
Crummock, a staff with a 

crooked head 
Crump, crisp 
Crunt, a bloiv on the head loith 

a cudgel 
Cuddle, to fondle 
Cuifs, blockheads, ninnies 
Cummock, a short staff' ivith a 

crooked head 
Cunnin, cunning 
Curch, a female head-dress 
Curchie, a curtsey 
Curmurring, a rumbling noise 
Curpin, the crupper 
Curple, the crupper 
Cushats, wood-pigeons 
Custock, the centre of a stem of 

cabbage 
Cut, fashion, shape 
Cutty, shoi't, bob-tailed 



DADDIE, father 

Daez't, stupefied 

Daffin, merriment 

Daft, foolish 

Bails, deals of wood for sitting 

on 
Daimen-icker, an *ar of corn 

now and then 
Daisie, the daisy 
J)am, wd^r 



Damies, dim. of dames 

Danton, to subdue 

Dang, knocked, pushed 

Dappl't, dappled 

Diirin, daring 

Darklings, darkling 

Daud, to pelt 

BamWu, ])elfing 

Dauntiiigly, d'auntlessly 

Daur, to dare 

Daur't, dared 

Daur na, dare not 

Daut, to fondle, toiaake mucky 

^ ^^ 

Drtwte, to fondle \ 

Dawtit, fondled, caressed i 

Daurk, a day's labour 

Daviely, spii itless 

Davie's, King David's 

Daw, daxon 

Dawin, the daivning " 

Dawds, lumps, large pieces 

Dead-sweer, but little inclined 

Deave, to deafen 

Deils, devils 

Dcil hatt, devil a thing 

Deil ma care, devil may care 

Deleerit, delirious 

Delvin, delving 

Descrive, to describe 

Deservin, deserving 

Deservin't, deserving of it 

Deuk, a duck 

Devel, a stunning blow 

Diciionar, a dictionary 

Diddle, to strike m- joy 

Differ, difference 

Dight, cleaned from- chaff ; to 

ivipe away 
Din, dun in color 
Dine, dinnei^-time 
Ding, to surpass ; be pushed or 

upset 
Dings, knocks 
Dink, neat, trirro 
Dim a, do not 
Dinner"d, dh\ed 
Dirl, a vibiating bloiv : to vi- 

brate 
Dirl'd, executed ivith spi^Hi 
Disagreet, disagreed 
Dizzen, a dozen 
Dizzie, dizzy 
Docliter, daughter 
Doin', doing 
Doiled, stujyefied 
Donsie, unlucky 
Dooked, ducked 
Dools, sojivws 
Doolfu', sorrowful 
Doos, pigeons 
Dorty, superc'lious, huffy 
Douce, grave, sober 
Douci'ly, sobeily 
Doudied, dandled 
Doughf, covld, might 
Dough '■ 11 a. did not, or did not 

choose lo 
Doup, the backside 
Doup-skelper, one that strike 



286 



GLOSSARY. 



Dour, stubborn 
Doure, stiibborn 
Douser, more decorous 
I>o\v. do, can 
Dowe. do, cd/i 
Dovvlf , pithless, silly 
Dowie, loxv spit Jed 
Downa bidf , cannot stand 
Do^viia do, a I kinase sigmfying 

impotence 
Doylt, stupid 
l)o\ tin, lualking stupidly 
Dnzen'd, impotent, toiyid 
Do/, 111, stupefied, impotent 
Draiglet, draggled 
Dm ts. sour humours 
Diap, drop, a small quantity 
Drappie. dim. of drap 
]Jrapping, dTGp>ping 
Dramiting, drawling , of a slovj 

enunciation 
Dravv't, draw it 
Date, to endure 
])n;fpinjr, dripping 
])r.'igh, tedious 
Dr l»bie, drizzle. 
DruUtle, to play ; tornoveslowly 
Drift, a drove. Fe.l aff tlie 

drift, ivandered from his 

compani' us 
Drodduin, the breech 
Dione, the bagpipe 
Droop-riimprt, that droops at 

the cruppfir 
Dfouk. to moisten 
J)roiikit, wet, drenched 
Drouth. thi7'jt 
Droiithy, thirsty 
i)iuken, drunken 
Drumly, mvddy 
Druminock. meal and water 

mixed raw 
Diiint, jwt, sour humour 
Diy, thirsty 
Dubs, small ponds 
Duds, garments 
Duddie, ragged 
Daddies, gahnents 
Dung, knocked 
Dunted, beat, thumped 
Dunts, blows, knocks 
Durk, a dirk 

Dusht, pushed by at am or ox 
Dwalling, divelling 
Dwalt, dicdt 

Dyvois. banki-upts, disrepu- 
table feUows 



EARNS, 

Eastlin, eastetm 

Ee, eye ; to watch 

Een, eyes 

E'e brie, the eyebrow 

E'en, evening 

E'enins, evenings 

Eerie, scared, dreading spirits 

Eiid, age 

Eke, also 

El bucks, elbows 

Bldritch, frightfyl 



Eleckit, elected 
Eller, an elder 
Em'brugh, Edinburgh 
Enbriigh, Edinburgh 
En', end 
Enow, enough 
Ensuin, ensuing 
Erse, Gaelic 
Especial, especially 
Ether-siane, adder-stone 
Ettle, design 
Expeckit, expected 
Exi)ec', expect 
Eydent, diligent 

FA', lot 

Fa., fall 

Face't, focsd 

P^addom't, fathomed 

Fao,foe 

F-dem, foam 

Faikit, bated 

Fi\i\in>-, failings 

Fair-fa', a benediction 

Fairin, a present, a reward 

Fairly, entirely, completely 

Fallow, a fellow 

Fa'n, have fallen 

F&n\ found 

Fand,' found 

Farls, cakes of oat-bread 

Fash, tiouble myself 

Fash your thumb, trouble your- 
self in the least 

Fasirt, troubled 

Fashous, troublesome 

F;i6ten-een, Fasten's even 

Fatt'rels. ribbon-ends 

Fanght, afiqht 

Fauld, a J old 

Y ».\\\iV\ I g, folding 

Faulding slap, the gate of the 
fold 

Fa.<.u, fallen 

Fause, false 

Finn, fault 

Faute, fault 

Fautor, a it^ansgresso)' 

Fawsont, seemly 

Fearfu', / arful 

Feat, spruce 

Fecht, to fight 

Fechl'm. fighting 

Feck, the greater jjortion 

Feckly, mostly 

Fecke'r, an under tvaistcoat 
with deeves 

Feckless, powerless, without 
pith 

Feg, a fig 

Feide,/ewc? 

Feirie, clever 

Fell, the flesh immediately un- 
der the skin: keen, biting,' 
nippy, tasty 

Fen, a successful struggle, a 
shift 

Fend, to keep off; to live com- 
fortably 

"Perlie, to wonder ,' a term of 
contempi 



Fetch't, pulled intermittently 
Fey, predestined 
Fidge, to fidget 
Ficgiu-faiii, fidgeting xoith 

eagerness 
Fiel, soft, smooth 
Fient. a petty oath. The fient 

a, the devil a bit of 
Fier, healthy, sound; brother,, 

friend 
F\em, friend, comrade 
FU.ie, a filly 
Fm\ find 
Fissie, to fidget 
Fit, foot 
Fitlie-lan. the near horse of the 

hindmost pair in the plough 
Fiaz, to make a hissing noise 

like fermentation 
F]aflan, fiajjping, fluttering 
F]a.e,aflea 

Fiang, didflini, or caper 
Flannen, flannel 
F\&r:'m, flaring 
Flatt'rin, flattering 
Fleech'd. supplicated 
Fleechin, supplicating 
Fleesh, a fleece 
Fleg, a kick, a random stroke; 

a sudden motion 
Fleth' -An, flattering 
Flewit, a sharp blow 
Fley'-d, scared 
Flichterin', fluttering 
Flie, a fly 
Flinders, shreds 
Flinging, capering 
Flingin-tree, a flail 
Fnsk\t, fret ted 
Flit, remove 
Fhitenns:, fluttering 
F\yte, to scold 
Foagei, squat or plump 
Foor, to fare 
Foord, ii ford 

Foorsday, late in the afternoon 
Forheaii'. forefathe?'s 
Forbye, tjesides 
Forf ai rii . tcorn-out, jaded 
For f ough leu . fatigued 
Forgatlier, to make acquaint- 
ance loith 
Forgatlier'd, met 
Fovpe, forgive 

Forjesket, jaded ivith fatigue 
Forvit, f 01 ivard 
For't, for it 
Fothcr, fodder 
Fou. full ; tipsy; a bushel 
Foughteu, troubled 
Fouth, an abundance 
FTac,f?07n 
Frammit, estranged 
Freath, tojroth 
Fremit, strange, foreign 
Fnen\ friend 
Fright, a person or thing of an 

extraordinary aspect 
Fu'. full 

Fud, the scut of the hare 
Fuff 't, did blow^ 



fSFLOSSABT. 



^umblin', awkward 

FiudeT,furtherance 
Farms, wooden forms or seats 
Fiirnicator, fornicator 
Furr-ah'ii, the hindmost horse 

on the right hand of the 

plough 
Ynrrs, furrows 
Fushionlegs, jnthless 
Fy, an exclamation of haste 
Fyke, to be in a fuss about 

trifles 
Fyle, to soil or dirty 
Fyl'd, dirtied 

GAB, to speak fluently; the 

mouth 
Gabs, tongues 
Gae, go ; gave 
Gaed, walked j went 
Gaen, gone 
Gaets, manners 
Qaira, triangular pieces of cloth 

inserted at the bottom of a 

shift or robe 
Gane, gone 
Gang, to go 
Gangrel, vagrant 
Gapin, gaping 
Gar, to make 
Gar't, made 
Garten, garter 
Gash, sagacious 
Gashin, conversing 
Gat, got 

G-diti^ fmmner / W'^y or road 
Gatty, gout]/ 

Gaucie, comfortable looking 
Gaud, the plough shaft 
Gaudsman, a ploiighboy^ the 

boy who drives the horses 

in the plough 
Gaun, going 
Gaunted, yawned 
Qawcie, jolly, large 
QsLwkiea, foolish persons 
GayVies, pretty well 
■Gear, wealth, goods. Weel- 

haiu'd gear, well saved 

drink 
Geek, to toss the head in wan- 
tonness or scorn 
Geds, pike 
Gentles, great folks 
Genty, slender 
Geordie, George. The yellow 

letter'd Geordie, a guinea 
Get, offspring 
Ghaisls, ghosts 
Gie, give 
Gied, gave 
Gien, given 
Gi'en, given 
Gies, give us 
Gif '. if 

Giftie, dim. of gift 
Gigleis, playful children 
Gillie, dim. of gill 
Gilpey, a young girl 
Gimmer, a ewe from orie to two 

ye<wsold 



Gin, if 

Gipsie, gipsy 

Girdle, a circular plate of iron 

for toasting cakes on the 

fire 
Girn, to grin 
Girrs, hoops 
Gizz, a wig 
G 1 a i k i t , thoughtless 
Glaizie, glittei^ng 
Glamor, glamour 
Glaum'd, grasped 
Gled, a kite 
Gleed, a live coal 
Gleg, sharp ; cleverly, swiftly 
Gleib, a glebe 

Ghh-^,nhhet, thatspeaks smooth- 
ly and readily 
Glinted, glanced 
Glintin, glancing 
Gloamin, twilight 
Gloamin-shot, a tivilight inter- 

vieiv 
Glowran, staring 
Glowr'd, looked earnestly, 

stared 
Glunch, a frown 
Goavan, looking round 2Vith a 

strange, inguiring gaze, 

staring stupidly 
Gotten, got 
Gowan, 'the daisy 
Gowany, daisied 
Gowd, gold 
Gowden, golden 
GowffM, knocked hither and 

thither 
Gowk, a foolish person 
Gowling," howling 
Graflf, a grave 
Grained, grinned 
Graip, a ptvnged instriiment 

for cleaning stables 
Graith, har?iess, field imple- 
ments, accoutrements 
Granes, groans 
Grape, to grope 
Graped, groped 
Grapit, groped 
Grat, toept 
Gratefu', grateful 
Grannie, graridmother 
Gree, a prize; to agree 
Greet, to weep 
Gree't, agreed 
Greetin, weeping 
Griens, covets, longs for 
Grievin, grieving 
Grippet, gripped, caught hold 

of 
Grissle, gristle 
Grit, great 
Grozet, a gooseberry 
Grumphie, the sow 
Grun\ the ground 
Grunstane.' a grindstout, 
Gruntie, the countenance ; a 

grunting noise 
Grunzie, the inoutti 
Griishie, thick, of fJirivitig 

growUi 



Griisome, ill favoured 

Grutteu, rvept 

Gude, the Supreme Being '^ 

good 
Gudeen, good even 
Gudemau, goodman 
Gudes, goods, merchandise 
Guid, good 
Guid-e'en, good even 
Guid-mon in, good ?nornin§ 
Guidfather, faUm^-in-Uw 
Guidwife, the mistress of the 

house; the landlady 
Gully, a large knife 
Gulravage, riot 
Gumlie, muddy, discoloured 
Gumption, understanding 
Gusty, tasteful 
Gutcher, grandfather 



HA\ hall 

Ha' Bible, hall-Bible 

Ha' folk, servants 

Haddin, holding, inheritance 

Hae, leave 

Haet, the least thing. Deil 

haet, an oath of nt nation. 

Damn'd haet, nothing 
^iCi, the half 
Haflf, the half 
Haffets, the temples 
Haffet locks, locks at the tem- 
ples 
Hafflins, partly 
Hafflin?-wise, almost half 
Hag, a scar, or gulf in mosses 

and moors 
Haggis, a kind of pudding 

boiled in the siomach of a 

coiv or sheep 
Hain, to sj)are, to save 
Hain'd, spared 
Hairst, harvest 
Haith, a petty oath 
Haivers, idle talk 
Hal', hall 

Haid, an abiding-place 
Hale, whole, entire; Hale 

breeks, breeches without 

holes; uninjured 
Hallan, a 2)articular partition 

wall in a cottage 
Hallions, clowns, common feU 

loivs 
Hallowmas, the Vist of October 
Haly, holy 
Hame, home 
Hamely, homely 
Han', ha?id 
Han' afore, the foremost horse 

on the left hand in the 

plough 
Ian' ahin, the hindmost horse 

on the left hand in tne 

plough 
Hand-breed, a hand-breadth 
Hand-waled, carefully chosen, 

by hand 
Hand less, without hands, ua« 

le6S, awkward 



288 



GLOSSARY. 



Eangit, hanged 

HansL'l, luuiisel throne, a tlirove 
ntwly inherited ; a gift for 
a 'particular season^ or the 
first nioney on any particu- 
lar occasion 

Ean't, handed 

Hap, to wrap, "Winter hap, 
winter clothing 

Hap, hop 

Ha'pence, half-pence 

Happer, a liopper 

Happing, hopping 

Hap-9tep-an'-lo\vp, ^»/?, step 
and jump, with a light 
airy step 

Hark it, hearkened 

Harn, yarn 

Har'sts, harvests 

Hash, a soft, useless fellow 

Hash'd, did smite, did dis- 
figure 

Haslock, descriptive of the 
finest wool, being the lock 
that grows on the hals, or 
throat 

Has't, has it 

Has tit, hasted 

Hand, to hold I would keep 

Hands, Jiolds 

Hauf, the hjlf 

Haughs. low-lying lands, mea- 
dows 

Hauns, hands, as applied to 
workmen, pei'sons 

Haurl, to drag 

Haurls, dra(is 

Hauriin, peeling, dragging off 

Hanver, oatmeal 

Havins, good manners 

l{a.v"re\,'hatf-icitted 

Hawkie, a cow, properly one 
with a white face 

Healsome, wholesome 

Heapet, heaped 

Heap t, heaped 

Hearin', hearing 

Hearse, hoarse 

Hear't, hear it 

Heartie, dim. of heart 

Hech, an exclamation of ivon- 
der 

Hechr, foretold ; offered 

Hechtih', making to pant 

Heckle, a bdard, in which are 
fixed a number of sharp 
pins, used in dressing 
hemp, flax, etc. 

Hi-'C baloii. a term used by nur- 
ses when lulling children 

Heels o'er-gowdy, head over 
heels 

Heeze, to elevate, to hoist 

Heft, haft 

Hein-sh'inn'd, in-shinned 

Hellim. kelm 

Hen-boo. hen-broth 

Hernet, harried 

Herrin. herring 

Eerrymeiit, 2)l>-'ndering, devas- 



Hersel, herself 

Het, hot. Gie Mwc ^ het, gvce 

him it hot 
Heugh, a coalpit : a steep 
Henk, a reaping-hook 
Hich, high 
Hidiu', hiding 
Hie, high 
Hilch, to hobble 
Hilchin', halting 
Hill-tap, hill-top 
Hiltie skiltie, helter skelter 
Himsel, himself 
Hiney, hone^j 
Hing, to hang 
Hingin', hanging 
Hinging, hanging 
Hirpies. walks with difficulty 
Hirplin, limping 
Hissels, hissel, so many cattle 

as one person can attend 
Histie, dry, barren 
Hit' h, a loop or knot 
Hizzies, young women 
Hoast, a cough 
Hoble, to hobble 
Hoddin, the motion of a man 

on horseback 
Hoggie, a young sheep after it 

is smeared and befoi'e it is 

shorn 
Hog-score, a kind of distance - 

line drawn across the nnk 
Hog-shouther, a kind of horse- 
play by justling with the 

shoulder 
HoPt. hoUd, perforated 
Hoodie craw, the hooded crow 
Hoodock, miserly 
HogI, the outer skin or case 
Hoolie ' stonf 
Hoord, hoard 
Hoordet, hoarded 
Horn, a spoon made of horn ; a 

comb made of horn 
Hornie, Satan 
Host, a cough 
Host in, cov (thing 
HotchVl, fidgetted 
Houghmagandie, fornication 
Houlets, Olds 
Honsie, dim of Jiouse 
Hov'd, sivelled 
Hodwie. a midtvife 
Howe, holloivly ; a holloio or 

dell 
Howe-back it, sunk in the back 
Howes, holloivs 
Howkit, digged ; dug up 
Howlet-faced, faced like an 

owl 
Hoyse, hoist 
Hoy'd, urged 
Hon te, to amble crazily 
Hugho;, ////f7/i 
Hiinder, a hundred 
Hunkers, hams 
Huntit, hunted 
Hurcheon, a hedgehog 
H urchin, an urchin 
llufdies, fi,ip^ 



Hurl, to fall down ruipf»tgly i 

to ride 
Hushion, a cushion 
Hyte, mad ■ 



ICKER, an ear of com 

ler'oe, a great-grandchild 

Ilk, each 

Ilka, every 

111-willie, ill-naturea 

Indentin, indenturing 

Ingine, genius, ingetlmfy 

Ingle-clieek, the fireside 

Ingle lowe, the household fir 

In's, in his 

In't, in it 

I"se, I shall or will 

If-na, is not 

Ither, other 

Itsel, itself 

JAD, a jade 

Jads, jades 

Jan war. January 

Jank, to dully, to trifle 

Jaukin, trifling, dallying 

Jauner, foolish talk 

Jaunt ie, dim. of jaunt 

Jaups, splashes 

Jaw, to pour 

Jillet, a jilt 

Jimp, to jump ; slender 

J imps, a hind of easy stays 

Jimpy, neatly 

Jink, to dodge 

Jinker, that turns guickly 

Jinkcrs, gay, sprightly girls 

J ink in, dodging 

Jirkiiiet, an outer jacket Oi 
jerkin ivorn by women 

Jirt, a jerk 

Jo, sweetheart, a term express' 
ing affection and some dC' 
gree (f familiarity 

Jobbin', joblnng 

Joctelegs, clasp-knives 

Joes, love?-s 

Johnny Ged's Hole, the grave 
digger 

Jokin, joking 

Jorum, the jug 

Jouk, to duck; to make obei- 
sance 

Jow, to sivinq and sound 

Jumpit, jumped 

Jundie, lo justle 

KAES, daws 

Kail, broth 

Kail-blade, the leaf of the coU' 
wort 

Kail runt, the stem of the cole- 
wort 

Kain, farm produce paid as 
rent 

Kebars, rafters 

Kebbuck, a cheese 

Kebbnck-heel, the remaining 
portion of a cheese 

gecJile, to cackle, tfj laugJ). 



GLossAnr. 



289 



dCeekin'-glasB, a looMng-glass 

Keekit, peeped 

Keeks, pe-eps 

Keepit, kept 

Kelpies, waier-^pirifs 

Ken, k?iow 

Kend, known 

Keim'd, known 

Kennin, a little bit 

Kent, knew 

Kep, to catch anything when 
falling 

Ket, a Jleece 

Kiaagh, anxiety 

Kick in', kicking 

Kilbagie, the name of a certain 
kind of whisky 

Killie, Kilmarnock 

Kilt, to tuck up 

Kimmer, a girl 

Kin', kind 

King'8-hood, a part of the en- 
trails of an ox 

Kintra, country 

Kintra cooser, a ccmntry stal- 
lion 

Kirn, a churn 

Kirns, harvest-homes 

Kirsen, to chHsten 

Kissin', kissing 

Kist, a shop counter 

Kitchen, anything that eats 
with bread to set^e for 
soup or gravy 

Kitchens, seasons, makes pala- 
table 

l^ititle, to tickle ; ticklish 

ii^ittlin, a kitten 

iiiutlin, cuddling 

iinaggie, like knags, or points 
of rock 

)Cnappin-hammers, haminers 
for breaking stones 

'inowe, a hillock 

Knurl, a churl 

Knurlin, a dwarf 

Kye, cows 

Kyle, a district of Ayrshire 

Kytes, bellies 

Kythe, discover 



LADDIE, a lad 

Lade, a load 

Laggen, the angle between the 
side and bottom of a wood- 
en dish 

Laigh, low 

Laik, lack 

Lair, Iwe 

Lairing, wading and sinking 
in snow or mud 

Lalth, loth 

Lathfu', bashful 

Lallan, lowland 

Lambie, dim. of lamb 

Lampit, limpet 

Lan', land, estate 

Lane, lone 

Lanely, lon^jf 



Langer, longer 

Lap, did leap 

Laughin', laughing 

Lave, the rest 

Lav'rocks, lark 

Lawin, shot, reckoning, bill 

Lawlan', lowland 

Lazie, lazy 

Lea'e, leave 

Leal, true 

Lea-rig, a grassy Hdge 

Lear, lore, learning 

Lee, the lea 

Lee-lang, live-long 

Leesome, pleasant 

Leeze me, a phrase ofcongraiu- 

latoi^ ehdearyhent, I am 

happy in thee, or proud of 

thee 
Leister, a three-barred instru- 
ment for sticking fish 
Len', lend 
Leugh, laughed 
Leuk, look, appearance 
Ley crap, lea crop 
Libbet, gelded 
Licket, beating 
Lickit, licked rvith desire 
Licks, a beating. Gat his 

licks, got a beating 
Liein, telling lies 
Lien, /am 

Lift, heaven; a large quantity 
Lightly, to undervalue, to 

slight 
Liken, to compare ■ 
Liit, sing 

Limbics, dim. of limbs 
Limmer, a kept mistress ; a 

strumpet 
Limpit, limped 
Lin, a v)ai:rfall 
Linket, tripped deftly 
Linkin, tripping 
Linn, a waterfall 
\AXiX,flax. Sin lint was i' the 

bell, since flax was in 

flower 
Lintiee, linnets 
Lippened, trusted 
Lippie, dim. oi lip 
Loan, milking place ; lane 
Lo'ed, loved 
Lon'on, London 
Loof , pahn of the hand 
Loosome, lovesome 
Loot, did let 
Looves, palms 
Losh, a petty oath 
Lough, a lake 
Louns, ragamuffins 
Loup, to leap 
Lovin' loving 
Low, flame 
Lowan, flaming 
Lowpin, leaping 
Lowping, leaping 
Lows'd, loosed 
Lowse, to loosen 
Lnckie, a designathm applied 

k> (m elderly womoa^ 



Lng, the ear / to produce, to 

bring out 
Lugget, eared. Luggetcaup, 

eared cup 
Luggies, small wooden dishes 

xoith handles 
Luke, look 
Lum, the chimney 
Lunardie, a bonnet called after 

Lunardi the aeronaut 
Lunt, a column of smoke 
Luutin, smoking 
Luve, love 
Luvers, lovers 
Lyart, grey 
Lynin, lining 



MAE, more 

Muir, more 

Maist, almost ; that nearl]( 

Maistly, mostly 

Mak, 7nake 

Makin, making 

Mai lie, Molly 

Mailing, /arm^ 

Mang, among 

Manse, a pai^sonage houstt 

Manteels, mantles 

Mark, marks 

Mar's, year, 1715, the year cj 

Ma7''s rebellion 
Mashlum, mixed com 
Maskin-pat, a tea-pot 
Maukin, a hare 
Maun, must 
Maunua, must not 
Maut, rtialt 
Mavis, the thrush 
M&v/ in, fnoiving 
Mawn, a basket; mown 
Maybe, perhaps 
Meere, a mare 
Meikle, as much 
Melder, corn or grain of any 

kind sent to the mill to be 

ground 
Mell, to meddle 
Melvie, to soil tvith mud 
Men', mend 
Mense, good manners 
Mess John, the clergyman 
Messin, a dog of mixed breeds 
Midden, tlie dunghill 
Midden-creels, dunghill basket 
Midden-hole, the dunghill 
Midge, a gnat 
'M.mx^prim 

Mim-mou'd, prim-mcmtlied 
Min, remembrance 
Min', mind 

Minds me, remembers me 
Mind't-na, cared not 
Minnie, mother 
Mirk, dark 
Misca'd, abused 
Misguidii), misguiding 
Mishanter, misfortune, disas-^ 

ter, calamity 
Miska't, abused 



§90 



GLossAnr. 



Mist, missed 

Misteuk, mistook 

Mither, mother 

Mixtie-maxtie, confvsedly 
mixed 

Mizzl'd, having different 
colors 

Moistify, to make moist 

Mony, many 

Mools, the earth of graves 

Moop, to nibble; to keej) com- 
pany with 

Moorlaii', moorland 

Moss, a morass 

Mou, mouth 

Mondieworte, moles 

Moiisie, dim. ot mouse 

Movin', moving 

Muckle, great big ; much 

Musie, dim. of muse 

Muslin-kail, bioth composed 
simply of water, shelled 
barley, and greens 

Mutchkin, an English pint 

Mysel, myself 



NA', not; no 

"Nae, no 

Naebody, nobody 

Naething, 7iOthing 

Naig, a nag 

Naigies. dim. of nags 

Nane, none 

Nappy, ale 

Natch, grip, hold. To natch, 
to lay hold of violently 

Near't, near it 

Neebors, neighbors 

Needna, need not 

Negleckit, neglected 

Neist, ?iext 

Neuk, nook, corner 

New-ca'd, newly driven 

Nick, to break, to sever sud- 
denly 

Nickan, cutting 

Nicket, cut off ; caught^ cut 
off 

Nick-naekets, cunosities 

Nicks, knocks, blows; Auld 
crummie's nicks, marks 
on the ho^m of a cow 

Niest, next 

Nieve-fu', afistfidl 

Wieves, Jlsts 

Niffer, exchange 

Niger, a negro 

Nits, nuts 

Nooht, nothiiig 

Norland, Northland 

Notet, noted 

Nowt«, cattle 



0\of 

O'erlay, an outside dress, an 

overall 
O'erword, any term, frequently 

repealed, a refrain 



Orra, supernumerary 

O't, of it 

O'ts, of it is 

Ought, aught, anything 

Oughtlins, anything in the 

least 
Onrie, shivering 
Oursel, ourselves 
Out-cast, a quarrel 
Outler, ttn-hotised 
Owre, over ; too 
Owrehip, a way of fetching a 

blow with the hammer over 

the arm 
Owscn, oxen 



PACK, pack an' thin, on 
friendly or intimate terms 

Packs, twelve stones 

Paidle, to paddle 

Paidles, wanders about witfiout 
object or motive 

]*ai jrt, paddled 

Painch, paunch, stomach 

Paitricks, partridges 

Pangs, crams 

Parishen, tfie parish 

Parritch, oatmeal boiled in 
water, stirabout 

Parritch-pats, j)0?Tidge-potS 

Fat, jntt ; a pot 

Pattle, a jylough-stqf 

Paughty, haughty 

Paukie, cunning, sly 

Pay^t, paid 

Pechin, the stomach 

Pcchin, panting 

Peel, a tower 

Peelin, peeling 

Penny wheep^ S7nall beer 

Petticoatie. dim. of petticoat 

TeMe, a plough-staff 

Phraisin, Jlatiering 

Pickle, a small quantity 

Pit, jjut 

Pits, i)^is 

Placads, public proclamations 

Plack, an old Scotch coin, the 
third part of a Scotch pen- 
ny, tiuelve of which make 
an English penny 

Pladie, dim. of plaid 

Plaiden, plaiding 

Plaister, toj)laister 

Platie, dim. of j)l ate 

Pleugh, plough 

Pliskie, a trick 

Pliver, a plover 

Plumpit, plumped 

Poeks, ruallets 

Poind, to seize for sequestration 

Poind't, poinded 

Vooxixth, poverty 

Posie, a bouquet 

Pou, to pull 

Pouchie, dim. ot pouch 

Pouk, to pluck 

Poupit, the pulpit 

Pouse, a push 

Poueeie. a U<KV 



Pon't, puika 
Pouts, poults, chicks 
Pouther'd, powdered 
Pouthery, powdery 
Povv, the h ad, the skuU 
Pownie, a pony, a s?nall horsi 
Powther, «ow;rfer 
Praise be blest, an expression 

of thankfulness 
Praym, praying 
Pree, to taste 
Preen, a pint 
Prent, print 
Vn(iQtw\p7ndefvl 
PrJe'd, tasted 
Prief , proof 
Priestie, dim. of Priest 
Priggin, haggling 
Primsie, demure, precise 
Propone, to propose 
Provese?, provosts 
Pu', to pull 
Pn'd, pulled 
Puddin', a pudding 
Puddock-Ptools, mus/trootns 
Pund, pounds 
Pursie, dim. of purse 
Pyet, the magpie 
Pyke, to pick 
Pyles, gimns 



QUAICK, quack 

Q,uat, quit ; quitted 

Quaukin, quaking 

Quey, a cow from one to tw9 

years old 
Quo', quoth 



Had, afraid 

Rade, rode 

Ragweed, the plant ragwort 

Raibles, rattles, nonsense 

Rair, to roar; Wad rair't 

wotdd have roared 
Rairin, roaring 
Raise, rost 

Raize, to madden, w inflame 
Ramblin, rambling 
Ramfeezld, /aiegi/m 
Ramgunsi.ock, rugged 
Ram-stam. frr-^irorrl 
Randie, quarrelsome 
Randy, i term of opprobrium 

generally airplied to a 

woman 
Ranklin', rankling 
Ranting, noisy, full of animm 

spirits 
^ants, jo/ liflcat'ion 
Rape, a rope 
Raploch, coarse 
Rash, a rush 

Rash-buss, a bush qf rushes 
Rattan, a rat 
Rations, rats 
Raucle, fearless 
Raught, reached 
Baw, a row 
Sax. to streUA 



GLOSSARY. 



29'i 



ftax'd, stretched <nit, extended 

KaxiD, stretching 

yjeam. cream 

Kebute. a rebut, a discomfiture 

Red, counsel 

Red-wud, MarTc mad 

Reekm, smoking 

Keekit, smoked ; smoky 

Reeks, smokes 

Rec^Lit, ^oithered, si?iged, stood 

restive 
Retlec', r<:,Jlect 
Reif randies, sturdy beggars 
Remead, remedy 
Remiive, remove 
Respeokit, respected 
Restricked, restricted 
Rew, to take jnty 
Rickles, stocks of grain 
Rig, a ridge 
Riggin, r({fters 
Rigwooddie. ivithered, sapless 
Rin, rioi 
Rink, the course of the stones, 

a term in curling 
R.inniu, running 
Ripp, a handful of unthrashed 

corn 
Ripple, weakness in the back 

and reins 
Ripplin-kame, a flax-comb 
Ripps, handfuls 
Riskin, made a noise like the 

tearing of roots 
Rive, to burst 
Rives, tears to pieces 
Rives't, tears it 
Roastin', roasting 
Rock, a distaff 
Rockin, a social gathering, the 

wo?nen spinning on the 

rock or distaff 
Roon, round 
Roos'd, j)raised 
Roose, to praise 
Roosty, rusty 
Rouu', round 

Roupet, hoarse as with a cold 
Routhie, well filled, abundant 
Rowes, rolls 
Rowin, rolling 
Row't, rolled 
Rov^rte, to low, to bellow 
Rowth, abundance 
Rowtin, lovjing 
Rozet, rosin 
Ruefii', rueful 
Rung, a cudgel 
Runki'd, wrinkled 
Runts, the stems of cabbage 
Ryke, reach 



SABS, sobs 
Sae, so 
Saf t, soft 

Sair, sore / to serve 
Sairly, sorely 
Sair't, served 
Sang, song 
Sannock, Alexander 



Sark, a shir^t 

Sarkit, provided in shirts' 

Sauce, scofn, insolence 

Saugh, t/ie willow 

Saugh woodier, ropes made of 
willow withes 

Saul, sovl 

Saunt, saints 

Saut, salt 

Saut backets, salt buckets 

Sautet, salted 

Saw, to sow 

Savi'in, solving 

Sawmont, a salmon 

Sax, six 

Saxpence. sixpence 

S?.y'f, say it 

Scaith, /iu}'t 

Scaur, to scare 

Scaur, frightened 

Scaud, to scald 

Scawl, a scold 

Scho, she 

Set oolin', schooling, teaching 

Scones, baiiey cakes 

Scoimer, to loathe ; loathing 

Scraichin, screaming 

Scrapin', scraping 

Screed, a tear, a rent ; to re- 
veal glibly 

Scriechiri, screeching 

Scrievin, gliding easily 

'^cvhw^M,' scanty 

Scrimply, scant ly 

Scroggie, covered with stunted 
shrubs 

Scuidudd'ry, a hidicrous term 
denoting fornication 

See't, se it 

Seizin, seizing 

Sel, self 

Seirt, sold 

Sen', send 

Sen't, send it 

Servan', servant 

Set, lot 

Sets, becomes ; sets off, starts 

Settlin, gat a fearfu' settlin, 
tvas frightened into quiet- 
ness 

Shachl't, deformed 

Shaird, a shred 

Sha'na, shall not 

Shangan , a cleft stick 

Shank, the leg and foot 

Shanks, legs 

Shanna, shall not 

Sharin't. sha7'ingit 

Shaul, shallow 

Shaver, a wag 

Shavie, a frick 

Shaw, show 

Shaw'd, shoived 

Shawe, wooded dells 

Sheep-shank, wha thinks him- 
eel nae sheep-shank bane, 
who thinks himself no un- 
irnportant personage 

Sheers, shears ; scissors 

Sherra-moor, Sheriff-muir 

Sheugh, a trench 



Sheuk, shook 

Shift!, a ahieling, at 

Shill, shrill 

Shilliu's, shillings 

Shog, a shock 

Slioois, shovels 

Shooii, .'•hoes 

^hor\j, threatened ; cl 

Shore, to threaten 

Shouldiia, should not 

Shouther, shoulder 

Shure, did shear, did cut grain 

Sic, such 

Sicker, secure 

Siclike, .suchlike 

Sideiins, sidelong 

Sighin', sighing 

Siller, money; of the colour oj 

silver 
Simmer, summer 
Simmers, summers 
Sin', since 
Sindry, sundry 
Sinfu', sinful 
Siiiget, singed 
Sing n', singing 
Siug't, sing it 
Sirn, the sun 
Sin)iy, sunny 
Sinsyne, since 
Skaith, injury 
Skaithing, injuring - 
Skeigh, high-mettled ; shy, 

proud, disdain fil 
Skellum, a worthless fellow 
Skelp, a slap ; to run 
Skelpie-limmer, a techn' 

term in female scolding 
Skelpin, walking smartly; 

reasoning 
Skelping, slapping 
Skelpit, hurried 
Skinklin, glittering 
Skirl, to shriek 
Skirl'd, shrieked 
Skirlin, shrieking 
Sklent, to deviate from tonith 
Sklented, slanted^ 
Sklentin, slanting 
Skouth, range, scope 
Skreech, to scream 
Skrieigh, to scream 
Skyri-n , anything that strongly 

takes the eije, showy, gaudy 
Skyte, a sharp oblique stroke 
Slade, slid 
Slae, the shoe 
Slaps, flashes; gates, styles, 

breaches in hedges 
Slaw, slow 
Slee, shy 
Sleeest, slyest 
Sleekit, sleek 
Slidd'ry, slippery 
Sicken, to quench, to alloy 

thirst 
Sly pet, slipped, fell over 
Sma', small 

Smeddum, dust, powder 
Smeek, smoke 
Smiddy, a smithy 



MOSSA^T. 



fimoor'd, smothered 
Smoutie, smutty 
Smytrie, a mimber huddled to- 
gether 
Snap, smart 
Snapper, to stumble 
Sbash, abuse Jmpertinence 
Snaw broo, melted snow 
Snawie, snowy 
Snawy, snoivy 
Sned, toloj), to cut 
Snell, bitter, biting 
Snellest, sharpest, keenest 
Sneeehin-mill, a snuff-box 
Snick, the lalchet of a door 
Snirtle, to laugh slyly 
Snool. to cringe, to submit 

tamely, to smib 
Snoov'd, sneaked 
Snoov't, went smoothly 
Snowkit, "nnffed 
Sodger, a soldier 
Sodgerin', soldiering 
Soger, a soldier 
Sonsie, jolhj, comely 
Soom, to swim 
So or, sour 
Sootie, sooty 
Sough, a heavy sigh 
Souk, a s'ur-k 

Soupe, a spoonful, a small 
quantity of anything liquid 
Sonple, supple 
Souter, a shoemaker 
Sowps, spoonfuls 
Sowter, a shoemaker 
Sowth, to try over a tune with 

a low whistle 
Sowther, to solder, to make up 
Spae, to prophesy 
Spails, chips of wood 
Spairges, dashes or scatters 
abcut 

Spairin, sparing 

Spak, spake 

Spate, ajio^d 

Spavie, a disease 

'Sp&\\et, having the spavin, 

Spean, to wean 

Speel, to climb 

Speerd, climbed 

Speer, to i7iquire 

Spence, the country parlour 

Spier, to ask, to inquire 

Spier'd, inquired 

Spier't, inquired 

Spinnin, spinning 

Spleuchan, a tobacco -ponch 

Splore, a frolic 

Sprackled, clambered 

Sprattle, to stmggle 

Spring, a quick air in music, a 
Scottif:h reel 

Spritty, fzdl of spirits 

Sprush, spruce 

Spunk, fire ; mettle ; a spark 

Spunkie,/?/^/ ofsjnritj whisky 

Spunkiep, WUls o' the wisp 

Spurtle, a stick with which 
porridge, broth, etc., are 
stirred whUe ^foiling 



Squattle, to sprawl 

Squeel, to saream 

Stacher'd, staggered, walked 
unsteadily 

Stacher't, staggered 

Stack, stuck 

Staggie, dim. of stag 

Staig, a hoi^se of one, two, or 
three years old, not yet 
broken for Hding, nor em- 
ployed in wo?± 

Stan', a stand ; \V&d stan't, 
would have stood 

Stance, stones 

Stang, to sting 

Stank, apoolorpoJid 

Stap, to stop 

Stark, strong 

Starn^, sta7'S 

Starniee, dim of starns 

Startin, stai'ting 

Startles, runs hur7'iedly 

Starvin, starving 

Staukin, stalking 

Sta'amrel, half-witted 



Staw, to steal ; to surfeit 

Stechin, cramming, j^^^^tlng 
xvith repletion 

Steek, to close 

Steeks, stitches, retiadations 

Sceer, to injure ; to stir up 

Steer'd, molested 

Steeve,^/'»i, compacted 

Stells, stills 

Sten, a leap or bound ; Hasty 
stens, hasty stretches or 
rushes 

Sten't, reared 

Stents, assessments, dues 

Steyest, steepest 

Stibble, stubble 

StiDble-rig, the reaper tn har- 
vest who takes the lead / a 
stubble-ridge 

Stick-an-8towe, totally, alto- 
gether 

Stilt, halt 

Stimpart, an eighth part of a 
Winchester bushel 

Stlrk, a coiv or bullock a year 
old 

Stockin, stocking 

Stockins, stockings 

Stock it, stocked 

Stocks, plants of cabbage 

Stoited, ivalked stupidly 

Stoitered, staggered 

Stoor, sounding hollowly or 
hoarsely 

Stoppit, stoijped 

Stot, an ox 

StovLTe, dust', dust blown on 
the wind ; pressure of cir- 
cumstances 

Stown. stolen 

Stownlins, by stealth 

Stowrie, dusty 

Stoyte, to stumble 

6 trade, strode 



Strae, a fair straedeattt 

natural death 
Straik, to stroke 
Straikit, stroked 
Strak, struck 
Strang, strong 
Strappan, strapping 
Strappin, strapping 
Straught, straight 
istieamie?, dim. of streams 
Streekit, stretched; Eireekiv 

owre, stretched across 
Strewin, strewing 
Striddle, to straddle 
Stringin, stringing 
SixQSin\,]nssed 
Studdie, a stithy 
Slumpie, dim. of stumps a 

short quill 
Strunt, spirituous liquor of 

any kind / to walk sturdily 
Stuff, co7'n 

Sturt, to molest, to vex 
Sturtin, frighted 
Styme, see a styme, see in the 

least 
Sucker, sugar 
Sud, should 
Sugh, a rushing sound 
Sumphs, stupid fellows 
Sune, soon 
Suppin', supping 
Su thro 21, Southe7'n, English 
Swaird, sward 
Swaird, stvelled 
Swank, stately 
Swankies, strapping youn{, 

felloivs 
Swap, an exchange 
Swarf, to swoon 
Swat, did sweat 
Swatch, sample ; specimen 
Swats, ale 
Swearin', swearing . 
Sweatin, siveating 
Swinge, to lash 
Swingein, ivhipping 
Swirl, a cu7've 
Swith, swift 
Swither, doubt 
Swoor, sivore 
Sybow, a leek 
Syne, since y then 



TACK, possession, lease 
Tackettf, a kind of nails f<A 

d7'iving into the heels q 

shoes 
Tae, toe; Three-tae'd, thret 

toed 
Taed, a toad 
Taen, taken 
Tairge, to task severely 
Tak, to take 
Tald, told 
Tane, the one 
Tangs, tongs 
Tapmost, topmost 
Tapetless, heedless, foolish, 
Tappit hen, a guatt measure 



*Paps, tops 

Tapsalteerie, topsy-iurvy 

Tarrow, to murmur 

Tarrow't, miirniured 

Tarry-breeks, a sailor 

Tassie, a goblet 

Tauld, told 

Tawie, that allo^vs itself feace- 

ably to be handled 
Tawpies, foolish, thoughtless 

young persons 
Tawted, matted, uncombed 
Teats, small quantities 
Teen, 2)rovocation, chagrin 
Teird, told 
Tellin', telling 
Temper pin, ilie wooden pin 

used for teaiperlng or re- 

gidating the motion of a 

spinning-wheel 
Ten-hours' bite, a slight feed 

to the horses while in yoke 

in the forenoon 
Tent, to take heed ; mark 
Tentie, heedfid 
rentier, more careful 
Teughly, toughly 
Teuk, took 

Thack an rape, clothes 
rhae, these 
Thairm. Jiddlest?'ings 
Thankfu, thankful 
Thaiikit, thanked 
Theekit, thatched, covered up, 

secured 
I'hegither, together 
yhemsels, themselves 
Thick, pack and ih'\c\i,friendly 
Thieveless, cold, dry, spited 
rhigger, begging 
rhir, these ; their 
fhirl'd, thrilled 
Thole, to suffer, to endure 
Thou's, thou art 
Thowes, tJiaws 
Thowless, slack, lazy 
Phrang, busy ; a croivd 
Thrapple, the throat 
Thrave, twenty four sheaves of 

corn, including two shocks 
Thraw, to sprain or twist ; to 

cross or contradict 
Thrawin, ttvisting 
Thrawn, twisted 
Thraws, throes 
Threap, to maintain by dint of 

assertion 
Thresh, to thrash 
Threshing, thrashing 
Thretteen, thirteen 
Thretty, thirty 
Thrissle, the thistle 
Throwther, a' throwther, 

through-other, pell mell 
Thuds, that makes a loud inter- 
mittent noise; resounding 

bloivs 
Thnmmart, the weasel 
Thumpit, thumped 
thysel' thyself 
ridins, tidings 



GLOSSARY, 

Ti)I, vnto 

Till't, to it 

Timmer, timbsr ; the three 
boughs 

Timmer propt, timber propt 

Tine, to lose ; to go astray 

Tint, lost 

Tint as win, lost as won 

Tinkler, a tinker 

Tips, rams 

Tippence, tivopence 

Tirl, to strip 

Tirrd, knocked 

Tirlin, unroofing 

Tither,- the other 

Tittlin, whispering 

Tocher, marriage portion 

Tocher-band, doivi^ bond 

Todlin, tottering 

Tods, foxes 

Toom, empty 

Toop, a ram 

Toun, a hamlet, a farm-house 

Tout, the blast of a horn or 
trumpet 

Touzie, rough, shaggy 

Touzle, to rumple 

To've, to have 

Tow, a rope 

Towmond, a ttvelvemonth 

Towzling, a rumpling, dishev- 
elling 

Toy, a very old fashion of 
female head-dress 

Toyte, to totter 

Transmugrify'd, metamoiphos- 
ed 

Trashtrie, trash 

Treadin', treading 

Trews, trousers 

Trickle, tricky 

Trig, spruce, neat 

Trinklmg, trickling 

Troggin, wares sold by wander- 
ing merchants 

Troke, to exchange, to deal 
with 

Trottin, trotting 

Trouse, trousers 

Trow't, believed 

Trowth, a petty oath 

Try't, have tried 

Tulzie, a quarrel 

Tunefu', tuneful 

Tup, a ram 

Twa, two 

Twa-fauld, twofold, dmhled 
up 

Twaihree, two or three 

Twal, twelve o'clock 

Twalpennie worth, twelve- 
pemmJi'orth 

Twalt, the twelfth 

Twang, twinge 

Twined, reft 

Twins, bereaves, takes away 
from 

Twi8tle, a twist 

Tyke, a vagrant dog 

Tyne, to lose 

Tysday'teen, Tuesday evening 



299 

UNCHANCY, dangerous 
Unco, very; great, extreme: 

strange 
JJncos, strange things^ news^ 

the country side 
TJnkend, vnknotvn 
Unkenn'd, unknown 
IJnsicker. unsecure 
IJnskaith'd, unhurt 
Upo', upon 
Upon't, upon it 



VAP'RIN, vapouring 
Vauntie, proud, in high spirh 
Vera, ve?^ 
Viewin, viewing 
Virls, rings round a column ' 
Vittel, victual, graiyi 
Vittle, victual 
Vogie, proud, well pleased 
Vow, an interjectian expressive 
of admiration or surprise- 

WA', a wall 

Wa' flower, the wallflower 

Wab, a web 

Wabster, a weaver 

Wad, would ; a wager ; to wed 

Wad a haen, would have had 

Wadna, would not 

Wadset, a mortgage 

Wae, sorrowful 

Wae days, {voful days 

Waefu', woful 

Waes me, woe''s me 

Waesucks I alas .' 

Wae worth, woe befall 

Waft, the CI OSS thread that goes 

from the shuttle thiaugh 

the web 
Waifs, stray . 
Wair't, spend it 
Wal'd, chose 
Wale, choice. Pick atd wale, 

of choicest quality 
Walie, ample, large 
Wallop in a tow, to hang one''. 

self 
Waly, ample 
Wame, thebelly 
Wamefou, bellyful 
Wan, did win ; eatmed 
Wanchancie, unlucky 
Wanrestfu', restless 
War'd, spejit, bestowed 
Ware, to sperid ; zvorn 
Wark, woi'k 

Wark-lume, a tool to work with 
Warks, wm^ks, in the sense oj 

buildings, manufactures^ 

&c. 
Warld, wmld 
Warlock, a wizard 
Warly, worldly 
Warran, warrant 
Warsle, to wrestU 
Warst, worst 
Warstrd, wrestled 
Waana, was not 
Waet, west 



f94 



GLOSSARY 



•Wasti '% v'rodigalliy, riot 

Wat, -jet ; wot, know 

Wat 1 a, wot not 

Wate. brose, brose made of 

n 'Ml and water simply 
Watt'^i, a wand 
WauMe, to swing oi' reel 
WauJ- ening , awakening 
WauKens, wakens 
Wau)> it, thickened with toil 
Wau) rjfe, wakeful 
Wau'^e, aivakes 
Wau , to fight, to defeat; worse 
Wau 't, wo?'sted 
Wea- ts, children 
Weanies, dim. of weans 
Weason, the xveasand 
Wee, little. A wee, a short 

1 'riod of time. A wee a- 

c ick, a small space behind 
Wee) tvell 

Weel gaun, vjell-g(nng 
Weel kent, well-known 
Wee( , wet ; dew ; rain 
We'8 !, we shall or wiV 
Wesfiin, tvestern 
Wha who 
Wha e'er, whoever 
Wha zle, to wheezf 
Wha 'pit, 'Whelped 
Wham, whom 
Whao, xvhen 
WhaQg, a large slice ; to give 

ihe strappado 
Whar, where 
Wha re, where 
Wha '8, whose 
Whase, whose 
Whrttfore no ? for what reason 

not f 
Whatt, did whet or cut 
Whaup, a curlew 
Whaur'll. tvhere will 
Wheep, flying, nimbly 
W hidden, running as c hare 
Whigmekeries, crochets 
Wh'ngin, crying, complaining, 

fretting 
Whins, fttrze bushes 



Wbirlygigums, useless orna- 
ments 

Whisht, peace. Held my 
whisht, kept silence 

Whi:-kit, whisked 

Whissle, whistle. So gat the 
whissle o' my groat, to play 
a losing game 

Whistle, the throat 

Whitter, a hearty draught of 
liquor 

Whun-stane, whinstone, gran- 
ite 

Whup, a whip 

Whyles, sometimes 

Wi', with 

Wick, a term in curling, U> 
strike a stone in an oblique 
direction 

Widdiefu, ill-tempered 

Widdle, a struggle or bustle 

Wiel, a small whirlpool 

Wifie, dim. of wife 

Wight, strong, p)Oiverful 

Wil' cat, the wild cat 

Willi e-w aught, a hearty 
draught 

Willow wicker, the smaller 
species of willow 

Willyart, wild, strange, timid 

Wimplin, wavering, meander- 
ing 

Wimpl't, wimpled 

Win', wind 

Winkin, zoinUng 

Winna, will not 

Winnock- bunker, a seat in a 
window 

Winnocks, windows 

Wins, winds 

Win't, did wind 

Wintle, a staggenng motion 

Wintles, struggles 

Winze, an oath 

Wiss, wish 

Witha', withal 

Withoutten, without 

Wonner, a wondef, a con- 
temptuous appelleiiotk 



Won 8, dwdts 
Woo', wool 

Woodie, the gallows ; a n*:^-* 
7nore properly one rrj^ade'qf 

withes or wiUouis 
Wooer-babs, garters knotted 

beloio the knee in a couple 

of loops 
Woidie, dim. of word 
Wordy, worthy 
Worl', world 
Worset, worsted 
Wow, an exclamation of jdeor 

sure or wonder 
Wrang, wrong ; mistaken 
Wrariged, wronged 
Wreeths, wreaths 
Wud, mad 
Wumble, a wimble 
Wyle, to beguile, to decoy 
Wylit'coat, a flannel vest 
Wyling, beguiling 
Wyte, to biame, to reproach 



YARD, a garden 

Yaud, a xvorn-out horse 

Yell, barren. As yell's the Bill 

cf icing no more milk thav 

'the bull 
Yerd, the churchyard 
Yerket, jerked, lashed 
Yerl, an earl 
Ye'se, j/ou shallo?' will 
Yestreen , yesternight 
Yetts, gates 
Yeukin, itching 
Yeuks, itches 
Yill, ale 

Y'ill-caup, oXe-stmip 
Yird, earth 
Yirth, the earth 
Yokin, yoking, a boui, atetio 
Yont, beyona 

foursel, yow's^lves ; \;c*ei'9^ 
Yowes, e^ves 
Yowie, diM. o" yomji 
Yule, ChrUtmas 



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